When You Dance
by Eriala
Summary: Max refuses to take his shirt off for Jude. Lucy complicates things. Max/Jude/Lucy. Chapter 7: Lucy visits a friend, Max's mom sets him up on a date, and Jude discusses art with Uncle Teddy.
1. Take Your Clothes Off

**Disclimer: **i don't own any of it.

**Warnings: **slash, incest, polygamy, nudity, language

**Author's Notes: **this was not meant to be a chaptered fic, but after two weeks' hard writing and fourty-two pages in msword, i really had no choice but to break it up. so i'm sorry if putting it in segments makes it rather choppy; at over 20,000 words, it simply could no longer be considered a one-shot. :p

also, i printed out a copy of this fic, edited it, and promptly left it at school; i appologize for typos and mistakes, and will fix them as soon as i can.

my first reviewer will recieve a cookie, as will the first person to tell me who wrote the song in the title. (hint: it's not the beatles!)

alright, you know the drill: read, review, and repeat! (it's almost like shampoo.)

**A/N (3/24): **i am incredibly pissed off at ff.n for messing with my formatting; i'm fixing problems as best i can.

* * *

**(Take Your Clothes Off) When You Dance **

**Chapter One**

There is one chronic difference between the Max of now and the one before. No, it's not the moustache, the Moustache of Angst, as it has been dubbed. Guess again.

You're wrong once more, it's not the drinking, he did that before, remember? Maybe not with the same reckless abandon, but it's an ancient habit nonetheless. You can have one more try. C'mon, it's not that hard. The answer is obvious.

Ha! You think the whole gay thing is new? It started ages ago. You can hear the full story later, if you like. But now you've used up your three questions. It seems only right that you should be told the correct answer.

He won't take off his shirt in front of me.

* * *

"Aw, c'mon man, jus' one mooore," Max slurs, lifting his left hand lethargically and placing it atop Jude's right, interlocking their fingers on the cold surface of the bar. He makes to nod to the bartender but instead merely rolls his head around on his neck, looking rather foolish.

Jude saves the day, slapping a hefty amount of the money onto the counter, using their linked hands to pull the other man to his feet. They teeter in an awkward sort of drunken waltz, the former, dark-haired one dragging his blond friend's arm over his shoulders to lead him toward the door. "I honestly don't know why I put up with you anymore, mate," he mumbles good-naturedly, fumbling with the doorknob.

Staggering and nearly pulling Jude down with him, Max lands with one knee on the pavement. With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Jude catches him as he falls and swings him up into his arms. Shaking his head, Jude murmurs, "You're bloody lucky you only live a street away," but he isn't really all that annoyed. "Now tell me," he says, utilizing the blond's vulnerable state because he knows the other will remember none of this in the morning, "why so many? Looked like you were playing a drinking game with an imaginary friend."

Max nuzzles into the British man's shoulder. "Was tryin' a drink them back t' life. Didn't work so good."

No further explanation is requested. Jude stumbles in near silence around the corner and through the door of Sadie's building, muttering various nothings under his breath: "God, you're so light… Only a few more steps now… you'll be repaying me for this someday…"

Inside finally, at the bottom of the endless staircase, he drops the insensible Max to the ground, then gets down on all fours. "Can't carry you like that a second more, mate," he says, and does his best not to sound exhausted. "Climb up on my back now or I'm leaving you here for the rest of the night."

Somehow, Max obliges. Somehow, they mount the flight of steps, one at a time, to the music of Jude's panting. Somehow, they find themselves in Sadie's "whatever room," where Prudence has passed out on the couch, Rita in her arms. They make their way to Max's bed, where the two collapse. "I hate to leave Lucy all alone for the night," Jude manages, fatigued, rolling out from underneath the other man. "Maybe I'll just…"

"Stay." Suddenly, Max is lucid, and pleading. "Stay." He doesn't say more.

"Alright then," says Jude, fumbling to cover himself with a blanket whose color is indiscernible in the dim light that comes through the window. He remembers from somewhere in the deep reaches of his mind that Max is wearing a denim button-down shirt, and thinks it must be uncomfortable. "You need any help getting that shirt off?" He knows Max never asks for assistance unless it is offered.

"Nah… no, I… I don't want you to s…"

"Don't want me to what?"

Max's face is buried in a pillow, rendering his next speech incomprehensible.

"Well, g'night, mate. If you wanna be uncomfortable that's not my business."

"Are you tryin' a tell me ya love me, Judey?"

Jude pulls the blanket up to his chin. "Get to sleep, you drunken sod."

* * *

You're worried about him, aren't you? Do you want to know a secret? I am, too. And do you want to hear another? Ah… maybe some other time. I'm not really at liberty to say.

* * *

Lucy awakens to a pounding on the door of her apartment; she pulls it open, dressed only in a baggy red t-shirt, to find an apprehensive Jude with a bubbly Max bobbing up and down behind him. "Sorry to wake you so early," says the first man, "but I wanted to make sure you were up in time for work."

"'S alright, it's alright," she answers, speaking to him but nodding in recognition to her brother. "But, ah… Is that all you're sorry for?"

"Oh." Here Jude tenses, almost nervous. "I should have come home last night, but Max was pretty smashed… didn't seem right to leave him alone."

"Seems fine now, doesn't he?" she inquires, but she's not really angry; when it comes to her brother, she would do anything. "Oh," she adds, realizing that they are still standing on the threshold, "come on in. I'd apologize for the mess, but, ah, one of you lives here and the other might as well." She disappears into the bedroom, shutting the door lightly behind her; Jude turns immediately to Max.

"You, well, you _don't_ remember last night, do you?"

"Not a thing," Max assures him, but something isn't right, he's more jovial than he should be, there's a gleam in his eye like he gets when he comes back from spending the night with his girlfriend, Rose.

"And by last night, I mean, you know… when you woke up… early this morning."

Lucy reenters the scene, now even more scantily clad but with a blanket wrapped around her thin form. "What happened early this morning?" she asks distractedly. Jude freezes and begins awkwardly: "Well – we… " but Max grins sheepishly and cuts across him, "I threw up all over Jude's shoes. Nothing to worry about, he cleaned them off just fine."

Lucy looks at Jude's scruffy-but-unsoiled boots and gives him a look that says she doesn't believe a word of it. "I should have known. Jude, you seen my uniform lately?"

"Yeah." He nods distractedly. "Ah, it was crumpled in the corner, behind the turntable."

"Thanks." She vanishes again.

"Um, about this morning," begins Max, concentrating on the floorboards, which Jude has painted in an assortment of bright colors.

"We'll talk later, mate," Jude assures him. "You want to walk Lucy to work? I've got some painting to do. I've been making a poster for Sadie and JoJo's gigs. The two of them inside a strawberry. It's coming along quite nicely."

"We'll talk later," Max echoes with a tense half-smile. "Right." When Lucy emerges he links elbows with her and leads her away with a bright smile that Jude doesn't quite believe.

* * *

You probably want to know what really happened that morning. I'm not sure that I should tell you. He may be your brother, but, well, what happened, happened. It's nothing to worry about, anyhow. Everything's just fine. Let's concentrate on the shirt issue, shall we?

* * *

"Can I help you, Sir?" Lucy the hassled waitress inquires, rubbing at her long-lashed eyes before realizing that the man at the table is Jude.

"Yeah, love. Just a coffee, if you don't mind. I'll even pay and everything this time."

She leans down to peck a quick kiss on his lips. "Coming right up."

He waits for what must be five minutes though he's never owned a watch in his life. She slides onto the seat across from his. "I'm on break," she announces, pushing a paper cup of coffee into his waiting hands. "We've got ten minutes, and I've got some questions."

He raises his eyebrows suggestively. "Naughty questions?"

Reaching over to playfully slap his arm, she snaps, "Jude, be serious."

"I've just spent three hours painting a strawberry. How could I not be serious?"

"I want to know about my brother," she says, pushing a lock of blond hair behind an ear. "He hardly ever speaks to me anymore, you know, especially when we're alone together. I worry… you know how much I worry."

"What do you want me to tell you?"

"The truth."

"He's doing great, you know. No nightmares in three or four nights, no more hallucinations, hardly any flashbacks…" As he speaks of Max his eyes light up and his smile becomes more genuine. He doesn't touch his coffee but fiddles with his hands in his lap.

"Yeah?" She is regarding him accusatorially, and it makes him fidget all the more. "What happened this morning, Jude?" She pauses and chews on her lip. "What aren't you telling me?"

It is a moment before Jude speaks, but when he does it is with an easy, lighter air, though there is a tightness around his eyes. "Just like he said. He woke up early, hung over… threw up on the floor and I cleaned up for him. He missed my shoes, though. I'm sorry, on his behalf, it was a stupid lie."

"Don't apologize for him," she says, "he's _my_ brother, isn't he?" She stands. "Tell me if anything changes," she murmurs, standing and pulling him into a half-hug.

"Lucy?"

"Yeah?" She's already turning to go.

"He loves you."

"Mmhmm."

"I do, too."

Teetering between striding away and leaping into his arms, she compromises, leaving him a second kiss with strawberry lips.

Finally, he lifts his coffee and takes a sip.

* * *

I know what you want. I know it better than you yourself. You want the same Max who you've known all your life. You want him in your arms; you want to cuddle him and tell him everything's going to be alright. You don't know why he's been so distant, when all you want to do is help him. I know, or I think I do, but for now I'll keep that as one more secret.

* * *

Max has been working all day, and finds his job even more impossible than usual; he is so busy thinking about Jude and this morning that he nearly drives into a telephone pole, then a trashcan. He finds himself outside a fancy hotel and is surprised when his next customer climbs into the front seat of the taxi beside him and smirks.

"Hey, Jude," he says cautiously, and then nods toward the hotel. "What were ya doin' in there?"

"'S where Sadie's manager's living. I finished that poster and he wasn't in his office so I had to go searching."

"Rich bastard," Max mutters, but he doesn't seem too upset. "It's getting colder and Sadie can't even pay her goddamn heating bill. Well, she could have if I'd been paying my rent. But you know me, I don't get tips, I still haven't got a fucking clue how to find all these uppity places they ask me for. If I had a customer who needed a ride to Café Huh, I'd be making a bit more."

"You're in luck, mate," Jude grins. Drive me somewhere private, have that talk with me, and I'll pay your next two weeks."

"You don't hafta – "

"Yeah, well, I wanna."

"Jude – " He breaks off, surprised and possibly pleased, when the other man's chapped lips meet his. The kiss is brief, but personal, and when they break away Jude is shaking his head.

"I'm so sorry, mate," he says, "I didn't mean to do that again. This morning should have been the first and last – "

Max starts the car. "This isn't the place," he says abruptly. "Let's get back home; we can deal with this there."

Five noiseless minutes later they arrive at Sadie's; Max parks on the street outside and they exit in silence, entering the building and climbing the steep steps. Somewhere along the way Jude's hand slips into that of his companion, who does not pull away.

Once inside the apartment they are ambushed by Prudence, who jumps out from behind the couch and startles Max into reaching for a nonexistent gun. "Shit, Pru."

Prudence, not at all uncomfortable, announces, "Rose came by. She said to give you this…" She leans forward and pecks a kiss on his cheek. "…and to tell you that you're over. Something about you calling her 'Lucy.'"

Max stutters. "That – that was a mistake… I haven't seen her in two days… why now…?"

Prudence shrugs. "I heard a voice in the background," she admits. "And, well –"

"Pru! Darling!" Rita's sharp voice comes from behind the couch.

Prudence giggles. "See you guys," she says, disappearing back behind the furniture.

"Well… shall we…?" Max asks, gesturing toward a nearby door. Jude nods and follows him into the bathroom.

"Max – " Jude begins, once the door has a milk crate full of albums holding it closed.

Max seats himself on the counter. "Judey," he says," with a bit of his old spunk, his playful air, "there's nothing to talk about. We kissed this morning in my bed. We kissed again in the cab. It was wrong. It was bad. And I want to do it again."

Jude drops his head into his hands. When he reemerges it is with an air of finality. "You may be free, mate, but I've got Lucy. Let's just… let's just hang out here for a while, and then get ready for Sadie and JoJo's gig tonight."

Max bites his lip, but nods. "Hey… d'you think Prudence and Rita would let us watch?"

* * *

It happened again. The shirt thing, that is. At least this time I was prepared for it. I'm having a hard time getting used to the new Max, but like you've told me, I didn't see him in the hospital, I didn't see him when he first came home, I wasn't there for him to lean on and I'm now reaping the consequences. That's right. Just keep twisting that knife.

* * *

Max is in his boxers and Jude is naked to the waist. The shiny new bruise on Max's shin where Rita kicked him when she noticed him watching her with her girlfriend is plainly visible.

"That looks nasty," Jude says casually, careful not to tread on his friend's pride.

He shrugs. "I've had worse. Luce might have been an angelic child, but Julia was a little monster for a while." It is evident on his face how much he cares for his sisters; his features are alight, and it makes Jude feel just a bit warmer in the unheated apartment.

"We'd better get dressed before someone think's we've been doing something else, mate," Jude suggests with an eyeroll. They have been merely getting changed in preparation for the gig, but it is obvious how their current states of undress could be misinterpreted.

Max grabs a pair of jeans and shuffles into them, stating, as the other man opens his mouth, "Yeah, man, I know these are yours. I just wanted to say I've gotten into Jude Feeny's pants."

"You dirty bastard," Jude scolds, grabbing a black t-shirt with the "Dark Side of the Moon" logo printed on the front. He pulls it over his head. "That's all well and good, mate," he smirks, "but _I've_ gotten under Sergeant Maxwell Carrigan's shirt."

"Yeah, you and the rest of the world," Max mutters distractedly, and now he's paler than usual, if that is possible; "Hey, Judey," he proposes, a bit too casual, "you go ahead, man. I'll catch up."

"Nah, it's alright. I'll wait."

"_Judey_." Max speaks as though to a naughty dog. "Go on. I'll be right there."

"I'd rather walk there _with_ you, you know, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. Just wait outside for a minute, I've got to change my shirt."

Jude raises his eyebrows. "Did I say something wrong?" He swallows rather audibly and watches his friend with wide eyes.

"Quit the melodrama, man. Just give me a moment's privacy, will ya?"

"I've seen you bloody _naked_ before."

"Yeah, before. Now, out you get."

Jude waits in the main room where everyone is pulling on jackets or wigs or boots and making their way toward the door. The hippie guitarist with the hair approaches him. "Max having a hard time again?" she inquires.

"What? No, he's just changing his shirt." For some reason he feels more embarrassed than he has in years.

"And you're not in there to admire the view?"

Before he can begin to form an answer, Max's arm is around his shoulders. "Let's get going, shall we?"

* * *

You want to tell me something. That much is clear. I wish you'd told me sooner, but I know it wasn't really relevant then. Let's make a trade. A bit of your knowledge for a bit of mine. Between us, we'll figure him out. Maybe we'll even get him to take off his goddamn shirt.

* * *

The gathering at the gig gradually migrates to a party in the apartment, where the air grows thick and heavy with various types of illegal smoke. Rita puts an album on one of the dwelling's many turntables: Sadie's first EP, the solo one in which JoJo's absence is almost physically painful. Jude stands back in one corner and watches Max dance from person to person, taking a drag of whatever each one is smoking; when he reaches Rose he pulls her out into the middle of the floor. "…just a goodbye dance…" Jude hears him say.

Next Jude hears another voice, right in his ear: "I'm not blind, you know. I can see you watching him." It is Lucy.

Unsure of whether to deny the claim or make a joke of it, Jude compromises by blushing furiously.

"I know what you see in him," she whispers, her breath tickling his skin and making him shiver. "Come on, let's take a walk."

To be outside is a relief to Jude, who celebrates when necessary but prefers open spaces and quiet. Emptiness can be filled with art, and art is all that he is. Lucy grabs his hand and tugs it, leading him to a nearby deserted alleyway. She sits against the grimy brick wall of a building and pulls him down onto her lap. "When I was fourteen, Max was… Max," she begins, and Jude realizes he is about to hear a story best left untold.

"Hey," he says, nuzzling into her neck. "I'm too sober for this. Let's get back inside."

"Yeah, well, he wasn't. Mum and Dad were at his school one afternoon, they had some meeting about his behavior, and they'd grounded him. I… I… well, I had this weird habit. I would do my homework on the doormat by the front door, every day. I think I just wanted to be the first one to know, if anyone came… I don't know. Anyways, there was no homework, that day, and one of my friends was due to come over any minute, so I just sort of sat there. And Max…

"He came up to me, drunk – I was still on that goddamned itchy doormat – he said had I ever kissed a boy. I told him I hadn't. And he leaned down and kissed me, on the mouth. That was my first kiss, and he was quite good at it – you know. I kissed back, looked up, and there was my friend's face in the door's window. She ran, never spoke to me again. At least she didn't tell anyone, or I don't think she did.

"Max and I, we never talked about it, after that, but I looked at him differently. I looked at every detail I'd passed over before. His lips, his ass. I thought he was my soulmate until I met you, I really did. I think I still do. But you complicate things, you know. I'm torn. And the worst part is, the two guys I'm torn between, they both avoid me now. When's the last time you slept in my bed, Jude?"

He doesn't answer because he is remembering the first time he saw her, how she leapt into her brother's arms, squealing, "Max!" as though blind to every presence but his.

"I don't blame you for loving him. That would be hypocritical. And I can't help him anymore, Jude. He avoids me at every turn. You've got to…"

"He loves you, Lucy. You've seen him at his worst, and he hates that. He just wants to be your big, strong brother, and now he's taking a break from you until he can fill that role again."

"And what's your excuse? You're 'taking a break' as well, I suppose."

"I've just been trying to figure things out, you know, find my place in the world."

"Is that place next to me?" She shakes her head. "Don't answer that. Just… don't." And then she has pecked a kiss on his pale lips, pushed him off of her; she stands and turns back for final parting words: "It's your turn to help him, Jude." She disappears. He rejoins the party, but doesn't find her there, and doesn't expect to.

The next day he stops by what was his and her apartment and gathers together what of his belongings he can, and brings them out to Max's waiting taxi, which he has taken without permission despite not having an American driving license. He drives the short distance back to Sadie's and has moved into an unfurnished, unused corner before Max awakens, paying Sadie for two weeks just as he remembers doing on the day they first met.

He lays his head down on a pillow stolen from the sofa and doesn't let himself cry.

* * *

You should have thought of what it would do to him, us no longer together. It's trouble in paradise, and that's hard on him. He can't stand to be alone near you anymore, and if you don't know why you're blinder than I thought.

I'll give you a clue. It's the same reason I dream of him every night.

It may be the reason he can no longer stand my presence. It may even be the same reason that he won't take off his shirt.

* * *

Jude awakens to two wide blue eyes staring into his own. For a disoriented moment he thinks he is back with Lucy, lying around in the bed with her watching his every move and smiling as though he is the cutest thing she has ever laid eyes on, but those days are over.

Max tilts his head to the side. "Awake?"

"Yup."

"A little birdie told me you've left my sister."

Jude winces and sits up; his companion backs off slightly. "She all but kicked me out. I didn't have much choice in the matter." His voice is hollow.

Max helps him to his feet; it could be a friendly gesture but those scrawny features are hard-edged and his tone is cold when he speaks. "Would you care to tell me what the fuck you did to deserve such treatment?"

"It was mutual, really. In the end, I think we both realized we had only one thing in common."

"And what would that be?"

"We're both in love with you, mate."

"Aw… thanks, Judey. Seriously, though, what is it?"

"Wasn't a joke. We're head over heels."

"Judey!"

"Yeah?"

"You didn't break up with my sister for… for me?" Max's demeanor has changed drastically; he fidgets with his hands and taps his foot nervously on the floor. "Cause, man, I'm not worth that."

"No! I mean, I didn't. But, ah, that's not to say I wouldn't. D'you want me to go back and break up with her again, for you? I'd do that."

Max shakes his head. "You'd hurt my sister just for me? I'm thrilled, truly. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like you to get the fuck away from me. I can't look at you, man. I think you've done enough damage in our lives."

Jude doesn't need telling twice. He slings his pack over his shoulder, the one with a change of clothes, a blanket, a few pencils and a sketchpad – all he really needs in life – and makes for the door. He wishes blandly that he hadn't already paid Sadie so much for lodgings where he is so obviously unwelcome. The November air is cold and he doesn't have a coat.

* * *

I don't have anything to say for myself. I don't have an excuse. All I can say is that I love you, and that I hope you love me too, and that when times are hard we do things we would never previously expected of ourselves. Max is the one who told me that, but he never explained himself. He didn't really need to.

* * *

Rose may attend American parties like there is no tomorrow, but before aught else, she is British, and a Brit does not abandon a fellow Brit in a time of need. "Jude," she greets, stepping back to admit him into the imposing old house. He opens his mouth but she interrupts, "Can this wait? I've got to get to class. Mum and Dad are away for the weekend, so you just make yourself at home. I'll be back in two hours, I promise." She wraps him in a tight hug and then pulls away again. "See you soon," she calls as she heads out the door, and her accent is warm and familiar and reminds him of home.

Jude has never been inside this majestic house before, preferring to wait on the sidewalk when coming with Max to pick her up, back when they were an item and Jude had a place in the world. The very walls scream of money, and it makes him uncomfortable, though he is not too nervous to explore. To the left of the entry hall is a kitchen, one that even his very kitchen-savvy mother would get lost in; to the right is a living room, impressive and spotless, with high-backed chairs and an empty fireplace. He remembers the electric heater in the fireplace back home, how it never warmed the house properly, how whenever his mother was between lovers he would sleep in her bed for warmth. Jude settles himself down on an uncomfortable sofa and wonders why he came here. It's not his part of town at all; the bus ride was long and used almost half of his savings; he and Rose have never been close, except for a couple casual late nights of mocking American governments and accents and beer. He supposes he has come to this place because it is better than the streets, or because he knows that Rose can keep a secret.

A gentle humming sound comes closer and closer, along with light footsteps; Jude stands up too quickly and hits his head on the mantelpiece, and the resounding crack is most likely what draws the stranger into the room. A voice calls out in an unrecognizable language, and then asks: "Miss Rose?" with a thick accent that reminds Jude of honey and spices.

The young, dark-haired woman follows her voice into the room, dressed in a traditional maid's uniform and clutching a cleaning rag, which she grasps so tightly that her dark knuckles become paler. "Sir?" she inquires.

"Oh." Jude is unsure of what to say. "I, ah, didn't break in or anything. I'm a friend of Rose."

There is no answer.

"And you are…?" he questions.

She shakes her head and he doubts that she can understand a word he says.

"I'm_Jude_." He gestures toward his chest, then holds out a hand for her to shake. Taking the hand in her own, the woman instead places a delicate kiss on his slender artist's fingers. "Hey," he says, because it seems the right thing to do, "you need help with anything?"

The woman shakes her head vigorously; she leads him into the kitchen, where she proceeds to hide her rag in a cabinet beneath the sink, and fill the teakettle with water. "You don't have to…" Jude begins, but trails off when she comes and sits next to him, placing a hand over his and meeting his awkward gaze. They sit like this in silence for several long moments before a shrill whistling fills the room, and she leaps across the linoleum to pull two china teacups from one cupboard, and teabags from another. When she lifts the kettle it sways dangerously in her thin hands, and water splashes to the floor.

Jude rushes forward to help her, but slips on the slick, damp ground; he grabs her to steady himself, but only succeeds in pulling her down on top of him. For a moment, he just lies there, feeling her breasts against his stomach, her arms entangled with his own; before he knows what he is doing he has drawn her lips up to his and he is kissing her like she is his lifeline. She responds well, slipping her tongue into his mouth as though it is her second nature, stroking his cheeks. He can feel the water soaking through the back of his shirt but doesn't care, because he shuts his eyes and she is Lucy – no, she is Max – no a combination of the two – no, more than anything, she is Molly, Molly who was there for him until the day he stopped writing, and he can't get enough.

* * *

I assumed that once you had banished me, the two of you would hole up together and become one, forgetting that a stranger named Jude had ever come into your lives. Even in my fantasies, he would keep his shirt on, sometimes even his thick winter coat. You would burrow into the cloth that covered his torso like a child with her favorite teddy bear; the two of you, both halves, would become a whole. I couldn't have been farther from the truth.

* * *

"Max? Max, you still with me?"

He looks up at the woman, Jude's ex, he can't remember her name, and though he's only a foot away it seems a great distance. Letting out a hysterical giggle, he bends almost double, hands over his mouth, before straightening again. "Yeah, I'm with ya," he responds belatedly. "Man, I'm fucked right now. What was that stuff?"

She laughs, and now she is tinged with rainbows. "Best not to know, I think…" She shimmers and her eyes are like diamonds and for once he isn't thinking of doing anything dirty with her, he only wants to watch her and watch her because any moment now she's going to grow wings and soar and he will ride on her feathered back and the whole of New York will swim beneath them.

"I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together." He holds out his arms and spins in dizzying circles, reminding himself of Julia's ballet recitals, a world or two ago. "I'm flying," he breathes, and wonders if this is how Prudence feels when he carries her on his shoulders. Prudence… _"Tell them you're a pedophile. Tell them you want to go into the villages and rape and pillage all the little girls who look like me."_ Had she really said that? In another life, another life when he'd burned a letter, and suddenly he isn't flying anymore and when he looks at Jude's ex once more there is blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. Her hair has darkened and her eyes gone bloodshot and as she advances as though to kiss him he does the only thing he can think of and runs. Brightly-clad crowds part to let him pass, and he reaches Sadie's building before he fully registers that he has left Café Huh behind.

Max stumbles up the steps as if trying to outrun the wind that drifts in through the open door at the bottom. He staggers into the apartment and glances around wildly as though seeing ghosts, murmuring a mantra of swearwords beneath his breath. In a corner between a vividly-painted chair and the blank wall he drops to his knees and rests his head in his hands.

"Max?" Rita approaches. "Hey, man, what's the matter?"

He peers at her with his fingers. "Well _you're_ okay," he mutters.

"Yeah, and you're not," Rita replies matter-of-factly. "D'you wanna tell me what's wrong?"

Before he can answer, Prudence approaches; "Rita, sweetie, what's going on?" she asks, and her girlfriend inches back a ways so that Max becomes visible.

He stares at the petite Asian girl with something akin to horror. "I didn't mean to," he gasps, "I didn't want to, I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to kill you…"

Prudence squats down in front of him and tugs one of his hands away from his face. "Max. Can you hear me?"

"I didn't mean to do it," he whimpers.

She winces. "Max, have you taken anything today? Anything strange?"

He closes his eyes. "That old girlfriend of Jude's… she was in Café Huh… she gave me some stuff. But… you're talking… dead people don't talk… I want Judey."

Rita turns to Prudence. "I think you're freaking him out, darling… I'll take care of him, alright? If he gets any worse you can go find Lucy."

"Lucy…" Max mumbles. "She hates me, doesn't she? Did I kill her, too?"

"Lucy's fine," Rita answers patiently. "Now, how about a nap?"

She nods to a nearby hippie who brings them a few pillows and a ratty blanket, and doesn't leave Max until his eyes are lightly closed and his breathing even. As she stands, Prudence approaches once more; "He asleep?" she whispers.

Rita nods, pulling her lover into a tight embrace. "I thought he was through with all that."

Prudence nuzzles into the other woman's shoulder and doesn't answer at first. After a minute she lets out something between a sigh and a laugh. "Only Max could get that fucked at two in the afternoon."


	2. He'll Love You Too

**Disclaimer:**I do not own.

**Warnings:**slash, incest, polygamy, nudity, language

**A/N:**and the first-review cookie goes to... **TakeMeOrLeaveMe2010**! congratulations. thanks also to the rest of my lovely reviewers (**Michelina**,**Tannenbaum Bell**,**kaaaleidoscope**, and **amatorius48**) and to those of you who put this story on your favorites or story alerts without reviewing, and even to the large number of you who read my first chapter but did nothing about it at all. in the future, i would love to hear from you - even if your review is only a word or two long, even if i haven't updated in ages, i always love reviews. i will still reward a cookie to the reader who tells me what artist wrote the song in the title. also, belated thanks to anolinde for helping me to edit the last scene of the previous chapter.

* * *

**When You Dance (He'll Love You Too)**

**Chapter Two**

You aren't like Max; and then again, you are. Protesting is your drug. While your brother drastically lowers his brain cell count, you chant and wave signs and bask in the feeling of being a part of something bigger than yourself, and maybe, maybe, making a change in the world.

* * *

When Lucy gets home the hole in her heart that that afternoon's peace march had temporarily filled is vacant once more. She collapses on the bed that feels too big for her and realizes she hasn't felt this all-consuming emptiness, this wave of sadness since Daniel's death, an eternity ago or most likely six, seven, eight hundred days. More? She counted at first, made tick marks with a pen against the side of her nightstand like a prison inmate, until the morning her mother noticed. Lucy left for New York the next day.

Protesting isn't the same without Paco. Not Paco the extremist, who died and will be forgotten. Not Paco who was haughty and rude to Max, or Paco who said… those things… to her, but Paco who would shout speeches into a megaphone and inspire thousands. _"I'm sorry I'm not the man with the megaphone,"_ Jude had said. How long ago had it been, the day that Paco had brought her his spare television? The same amount of time since the day Jude had smashed it. In retrospect, she doesn't blame him. War doesn't belong in a living room any more than it does in a jungle.

Life isn't the same without Jude. How long has it been? Twelve hours? No, more. Fifteen? Twenty? It doesn't really matter, because the phone rings, and she must rise from her trance and answer. "Umm…" he tone is groggy. "Hey."

"Lucy, darling? Is that you?"

"Yeah, Mom, it's me." The false brightness in her tone is a blinding yellow color that makes her head hurt.

"I suppose you were at that riot I was just watching on the television?"

"Mhmm."

"Lucy! I hoped you would have stopped that. Your brother is home, remember? This war doesn't concern us anymore."

Lucy sits herself on her bureau and remains silent. What she wants to say is:_ Daniel is home, too._

"I don't suppose you know why I'm calling?"

Lucy hazards a guess. "It's fall again, and once more I haven't begun school."

"We've talked that over already, darling. No, I was hoping you could come home for Thanksgiving. Actually, maybe a few days before the holiday, so we can spend some time with you and your brother. Your father and I have hardly seen him since he's been home. And I was hoping you'd bring that lovely boyfriend of yours. Jude, was that his name? I know how serious the two of you are, so he'd better get used to being a part of your family. You are still together, aren't you?"

"What?" The headache is growing worse. "Oh, um, of course. Yes, I'm sure he'd love to come." She instantly regrets the lie.

"I'll pick the three of you up at the train station on Monday, then?"

"Monday?" That's less that forty-eight hours to find Jude, convince him to pretend to love her, maybe even bribe him; he must be pretty broke by now. That's one long and silent train ride with her brother, who seems to acknowledge her presence less and less, though Jude would say it was more and more. "Yes, we'll be there."

"It was wonderful to speak to you, Lucy."

"Yeah, Mom, you too."

* * *

I'm not Jude anymore. That's what you would say. I'm someone else now, some sort of Max aspirant who's doing a very poor job of it. But you know, that's not right. Everyone has memories. Everyone has accidents. It was really just a combination of the two.

* * *

"Jude? You still here?" Rose peers into the deserted living room, expecting the British male to be curled up on the couch, sketching and scribbling to his heart's content.

"In here." His voice wafts toward her from the kitchen, followed by a giggle that is certainly not his. She enters to find him sitting at the table with a cup of tea, beside the new maid her parents had hired only a week before, a few years younger than her. His chocolate hair is a mess, and her lips oddly puffy, and it doesn't take her college education to know what has transpired.

She makes her face into an odd, wide-eyed, closed-lipped expression and freezes for several seconds before she comes to her senses. "So that's the way it is." The younger girl whom she had previously cared for as much as their short acquaintance allowed suddenly seems like a parasite; she is saved the discomfiture of having to ask her to leave when the maid stands, blows Jude a kiss, and exits the room.

"Look, Rose," Jude begins, as they hear the sound of the front door slamming.

"I don't want to hear it."

He is in the midst of taking a sip of tea, but chokes on it and places the cup down a bit too forcefully; it makes her nervous. "You're going to hear it, though, alright? Sit down, have a sip of my tea – "

"I don't want your bloody tea." She doesn't shout, but mutters it between clenched teeth.

He starts again. "We were only kissing, that's all. Lucy broke up with me because I was in love with Max. Max kicked me out for hurting Lucy. And… that woman was there, and it reminded me… I had this girl called Molly, back home. I met her… one of my bosses invited me over for tea, she was his maid, we kissed in the kitchen. I suppose Max isn't the only one entitled to an occasional flashback."

Rose takes only a second to forgive him, and tells him as much. She adds, with a half-laugh, "That woman… she's a prostitute. She was found by Max, on the street; I convinced my parents to hire her."

Jude laughs right along. "God, what have I done," he mumbles in disbelief.

"Never mind," says Rose. You can stay here 'til Mum and Dad get home on Monday. Can I ask you a question?"

"You just have."

"Do you love Lucy?"

"Yeah. 'Course. But I love him just as much. And neither of 'em will have me now, so I suppose it doesn't matter."

"They don't just call us 'hippies' 'cause of our music, you know. It's because we love too much. Nothing to be ashamed of." Her earnest words don't match their daunting location.

He pauses. "You ever think of getting out of your parent's house? Find someplace a little more suited to you? You don't belong here."

"I know that. God, I know that. But hey, we've got china teacups, comfortable beds, and money enough for university. It's a lot to give up." She seems to be speaking to herself as much as to him, almost – regretfully?

"The time will come," he assures her. "Sooner than you'd think."

"Well aren't you a fine prophet," she answers bitterly, and he doesn't know what to make of it.

* * *

It's just me. That's the weird thing. He's probably dance naked in front of Sadie or JoJo. He definitely would for Prudence. Maybe even for you. It's when I'm around that the shirt stays on.

* * *

Everyone babies Max when he has a bad day. Sometimes he basks in it, and sometimes only feels worse. Today it's almost fun to wake up, groggy, in a corner, covered by a random blanket, to find that he has not killed either Prudence or Lucy and that Jude's ex girlfriend in Café Huh is most likely not really the living dead. It is even more fun when Prudence and Rita swoop down on him, each kissing a cheek, each taking a hand to pull him to his feet, then standing back and watching him, deciphering his mood.

A nearby hippie holds out a joint, but when he reaches for it a hand comes between him and that which is offered. "He's had enough for one day," says JoJo, JoJo who only speaks when necessary, when words of wisdom are in order.

"Jo – "

He doesn't have time to finish his complaint before Sadie is in his face, asking, "You feelin' alright now, babe?" to which he gives the only logical response: "I'd be better in one of your shirts."

She opens her door for him, and lets Prudence and Rita enter as well – "You watch us, we watch you," Rita insists.

He makes straight for the closet. "C'mon, help me out, girls," he calls, and has to add: "Not that your fashion sense is half as good as mine."

They choose a silky green blouse and pale brown skirt; "They're totally your colors," Prudence explains. "Here, put them on."

He tries not to think of the outfit as army colors, as jungle colors. "Never actually gone as far as a skirt before," he comments lightly, slipping out of his pants without warning, before they can think to look away. Prudence blushes; "Nothin' you haven't seen before, Pru," he reminds her.

"Is that so?" All of a sudden, as he is pulling the skirt up past his knees, Rita seems a lot less friendly. She advances on the pair of them while he does up the zipper on the side; she appears a whole lot more intimidating now that he has no pants.

"Ah, I can explain," he begins, not backing up because quite honestly she doesn't have a rifle or machete, so he figures from experience that she can't do too much damage.

"Sweetie!" Prudence's slender form has slipped between them like a ghost. "That was years ago. Max isn't a threat: the only ones he's attracted to are his sister and Jude."

"I resent that! " The words burst forth louder than intended.

"Aw, come _on_, Maxy-Poo, everyone knows it.'' Prudence, as usual, does not live up to her name. "Now how about you get that shirt changed?"

* * *

Does absence kill you the way it does me? Your absence, his absence, it eats me from the inside out. A day that I'd looked forward to eagerly in another life passes without me. _You_ pass without me. I suppose that all things must pass.

* * *

By the time the two hippies stumble through the door, Max is fully dressed in tan skirt and unbuttoned green blouse. The silver ring on a ribbon around his neck, ordinarily tucked beneath his t-shirt, is visible, as are several frighteningly large brown scars. He is sitting on JoJo's piano stool, but jumps up at the sounds of commotion.

They are holding a large slab of wood with a knob on each side, and at first, a lost-for-words Max can only ask, "What's that?"

"_That_, Maxwell," replies Sadie smoothly, "is your new bathroom door. Consider it a Thanksgiving gift, if you like; or a late welcome-home present; or something to keep you occupied."

The panting hippies prop their load against the wall, and Max notices in delight what at first he had not: "It's got a mirror on the back."

He sets to work immediately, aided by a bearded hippie with round glasses. They unscrew and push and kick until the former door comes crashing down; Sadie, their overseer, orders them too leave it leaning up against a nearby wall.

Now it is time to nail the new one in place; "And _up_," Max commands, with all the authority he once learned for shouting different commands: _"You guys go around the left. The rest of you to the right. Fire when I say so."_

"I would have thought you'd wait for Jude," Sadie comments carefully. "You two have wanted a mirror since the day I met you."

"Oh, he split, he's not coming back," Max answers nonchalantly, though the words make something tense up inside him and he can't shake the feeling that his world is crumbling and it is all his fault.

"Don't be stupid," says Prudence. "That's what _I_do. Jude wouldn't do that." It may just be his imagination, but it seems she eyes him suspiciously.

"I-might-have-told-him-to-get-the-fuck-away-from-me," Max admits, all in one breath.

"Max!" At least three voices shout it.

"I don't get it, babe." Sadie comes forward and meets his eyes. He and the hippie are still holding the door upright, having not yet screwed the hinges in place. "The two o' you haven't had one goddamn argument your whole lives." She peers at him cautiously. "This got something to do with that diamond ring around your neck?"

"No. Yes. No. I've been wearing it over a year. That's nothing – "

"You and Lucy are engaged?" Prudence says it almost innocently, but it makes him feel cornered.

He turns to the hippie. "Hey, man, hold the door in place while I hammer the nails. Got it?"

* * *

You like to think. You're, well, a thinker. You plan your actions carefully. You do everything for the greater good, or so you claim. Think about this. How many minutes have you spent longing for Max's slim hands in your hair, his lips brushing your own? For how many have you longed for me?

* * *

Lucy is remembering, remembering while meandering as slowly as possible, taking detour after detour to avoid reaching her brother, and very likely his best friend: to avoid making the ultimate decision.

When she last spoke to Jude, she lied, a harmless little lie: their parents knew of her incident with Max. The friend who had run had phoned their father, that evening. Engraved in Lucy's mind is her parents' revolted shock, then the lectures that lasted well past midnight, the two siblings seated on the sofa with the angry couple pacing back and forth in front of them, the young and confused Julia listening at the cracked-open door.

"_Did I do something wrong?" _their mother had asked. _"Is this a punishment? I try to raise three beautiful children to the best of my ability, and they reward me by behaving like hicks at a circus."_

Lucy still doesn't know what to make of that comment. She does know that at the beginning of the ordeal Max had discreetly, comfortingly, slipped a hand underneath her shirt at her hip, rubbing his thumb reassuringly but discreetly against her pale skin. She knows that in the weeks that followed, before everything had calmed down and been forgotten, when she and her brother were forbidden to be within five feet of the other, he had taken every opportunity to touch her: brushing shoulders on his way to his bedroom, running a hand over hers as he grabbed from her a box of cereal. The touching had never really ended – not until he brought home a stranger from Liverpool who marveled over her perfect teeth.

When she first met Jude, his only flaw was that he wasn't Max. As she wanders through New York, years later, she finds this absurd; but stops, nonetheless, on the pavement, beside the stall of a vender selling jewelry. It wouldn't do to be dwelling on the man who opened her eyes in a thousand ways, to be caught up in her thoughts, to amble out in front of a taxi. She stares down at the polished silver rings, mainly Celtic designs, the kinds that swirl and braid in dizzying ways.

Jude whirls though her mind just as dizzyingly, and before she knows what she is doing she has said, "I'll take that one, please," and paid the required seventy-five cents to find herself with a ring straight out of a fantasy world.

She knows what she has to do, because she no longer believes that Jude is flawless. She knows what she has to do, before she dooms herself to a lover who in most company can offer her no more than the discreet touches he gave in her fourteenth year. She is going through with her plan, no turning back, because the flaws are what she loves most about Jude, and because his only non-flawed characteristic is that he is not Max.

Desperate times call for unusual measures. Paco taught her that. Paco was not a lover – at least, not _her_ lover – but he might as well have been. He was her commanding general in an army that began more and more to seem like that against which they protested. She'd called him over to her desk one casual day, an eternity ago; he had leaned in close and run a few fingers through her hair, which made her more than uncomfortable_. "I was wondering if I could leave early today. Some friends – musicians – have a gig tonight, and I promised my boyfriend I'd make it."_

"_Your boyfriend? You mean that crazy bastard who – "_

"_Yes, that one. Listen, Paco , this is really important to me…"_

"_Lucy, you're with us or you're not; you are a part of the solution or part of the problem. Are you part of the problem?"_

"_No…"_

"_I'll be back later to go over your plan for Columbia."_

It all comes back to Max, doesn't it? She protests for Max, not Daniel, in the end. Daniel couldn't wait to go; Daniel did something brave; Daniel made his choice; Daniel did not need to be saved. Max had found himself pulled underwater, only to surface once more in conditions indescribable. Max, on the day before he left, had pulled her aside, and said, with all bluntness: _"If I don't come back, I want you and Jude to be happy. I want you to forget about me. I want…"_

With one hand she put a finger to his lips, and with the other pressed something small, hard, silver into his palm. _"When you come back, I want you to give me this. And I want you to…"_ She stood on tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. _"I'll never forget you."_

She knows what she has to do; she knows in what order she must do it. Everything has fallen into place.

* * *

Love put me in an awkward situation with your brother and you. Love drove me away. And then love did it again. That is the problem with secrets, they make you choose between one kind of love and another. I might care about Max enough not to tell him of the following; but then again, I might care so much that I have no choice but to tell. It's a headache of a situation, truly. And you only complicate things.

* * *

He and Rose have been talking casually for quite a long time before Jude notices that with every passing moment she grows antsier. It is not altogether surprising when she announces, "Jude, I'm going to tell you something. You're going to be angry. You might even hate me. But I want you to at least hear me out. Can you do that?"

"Yes, of course, love. What…?"

"I'm going to have Max's baby."

Jude, having tensed at her serious tone, relaxes. "That's brilliant. I can't wait to see the look on his – "

"You can't tell him, Jude. He can't ever know. I'm going home."

"Home? What do you…? We're in your house right now, remember?" He knows just what she means, but isn't going to believe it.

"I'm going back to England. A few of my cousins there have already arranged to take me in, and my old boyfriend has agreed to help me raise the child. My little baby is going to grow up properly, with tea every afternoon, and no riots in the streets, no crowded apartments of stoned hippies."

"Home isn't the paradise you're making it out to be, Rose."

She lifts one hand to rub at her watery eyes, and he puts a comforting hand on her trembling leg. "Max can't be a father," she admits, all in a rush. "You know what I'm talking about. He's so fucked in the head even the army doesn't want him back – "

Jude's hand drifts from leg to stomach. "You really ought to watch your language in front of the baby." He says it carefully, because she is nearly in tears already; but all his care proves for naught when she begins crying in earnest. "Hey," he murmurs, stroking her hair and letting her lower her head into his shoulder. "Hey, it's gonna be alright, it's gonna be alright." He once said the very same to Max, and everyone knows how that one turned out.

"It's just too much responsibility," Rose explains, composing herself. "Picture it. I wake up at night to the sound of the little one crying, I cradle him and sing him to slumber. I slip back into bed, and drift off. An hour later, Max is screaming in his sleep and I cuddle him and croon another bloody lullaby. His screaming has awakened the baby, so I crawl out of bed once more, and it'll never end, it'll never end. I don't know if I can mother a child, but I know I can't do so with Max, I just can't.

"I think I fell in love with him because he was fascinating. You know I was going to major in psychology? He was intriguing; he was someone to study and to care for. Just, you know, a project. When I was six it was a pasta necklace, and now that I'm a university student, it's a drunken PTSD morphine addict war veteran. But I'm not a student anymore; I'm dropping out, and the experiment is over. I couldn't fix him."

Jude would be half inclined to slap her in any other situation. Instead he speaks as calmly as he can. "You know that's not true anymore. The morphine part, I mean. He was over with that more than two weeks ago. And he's trying to cut back on the drinking, he really is. You give him no credit."

"It doesn't matter anymore, Jude. I'm telling my parents on Monday. I've already bought a ticket for a ship that leaves Tuesday."

Jude could not be defined as a quitter, but sometimes he simply has had enough. This is one of those times. "I suppose you've got a sickeningly large bathtub somewhere in here?"

"Top of the stairs. Second door on the right."

He slings his pack over one shoulder and makes for the steps, but she calls him back. "Jude? Hang on, Jude."

He waits.

"When I'm gone… take care of him, Jude. Take care of him for me."

* * *

You're a planner. Once, you helped Paco plan rallies and marches and protests. Now you plan to fix our tangled love lines. You've got the right idea; there's no question about that. But your plan is nothing more than a sad song, really. And I'm Jude. I take a sad song and make it better.

* * *

Stepping back to admire his handiwork, Max trips over a hammer he's left on the floor and falls flat on his back. Rather than stand, he regards the door and mirror from the ground. The hippie who had assisted him steps over his prone form; "Nice workin' with ya, man," he calls as he strides away.

"…lookin' good, babe," he hears Sadie announce from the next room. "Which one's it for?"

"Both," he hears Lucy reply. Lucy. He ought to stand, or at least sit up, but the hardwood is oddly comfortable and instead he tilts his head to the side and closes his eyes.

"Never knew you were that type, Luce," someone else says. It is a moment before he recognizes the voice of Prudence. "Maxy-Poo, you've got a visitor!" she trills delightedly in his direction. He groans and opens his eyes. Lucy's face swims before him, and her hand reaches down to grasp his, pulling him clumsily to his feet. Without warning she pushes him against the nearest wall, pinning him there so that their faces are inches apart.

"I've changed my mind," she says, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "I'm going to ask Jude to marry me"

"Congratulations."

She tilts her head up and kisses his nose. "I changed my mind," repeats she, more gently, thoughtfully this time.

"About what?"

"I told Jude it was his turn to help you. I think I'd like one last chance." Stepping back, she pulls him away from the wall and into the center of the room, where she wraps her arms about him and shuffles lightly around in a vague sort of dance. Holding one of his hands, she steps back and twirls, then buries herself in his chest once more. The bedroom has always been cramped, and clouded with memories of her first night with Jude, but as her brother joins in with her tender movements and she begins to feel like a part of him and not herself at all, the clouds lift.

From the other room comes soft singing and the strumming of a guitar; JoJo, Sadie and Prudence are crowded in the doorway, providing live music for the siblings' – lovers'? – dance. She spins, she holds him tight, she joins in their song:

"…_before this dance is through, I think I'll love you too…"_

Lucy raises her eyebrows at the three in the doorway who immediately scatter, leaving the beads clinking wildly as she pulls Max down onto the bed, inside her head screaming because she has wanted this for so_long_ that it seems almost surreal. She is almost oblivious to the fact that it is a blouse and skirt that her brother is removing from his own body, rather than more manly garments. She does, however, notice the ring hung on a ribbon around his neck. Nuzzling into his shoulder, she murmurs, "You kept it."

"I remember – what you said." He fiddles with the ribbon's knot, finally biting it apart with his teeth. The ring he slips off of it and clutches between index finger and thumb. "Lucy Carrigan, will you marry me?"


	3. It'll All Work Out

**Disclimer: **i don't own any of it.

**Warnings: **slash, incest, polygamy, nudity, language

**A/N:** this chapter is extra-long to make up for the fact that i'll most likely be updating less often from now on. i have one more completed chapter after this, but i don't like to post a chapter unless i have at least one or two more written; so this is the last you'll hear from me for at least two weeks, most likely. i am very sorry.

**Thank-Yous: **to all my wonderful readers, i love you very much. to last chapter's reviewers, **Bobertha**, **Michelina**, **amatorius48**, **TakeMeOrLeaveMe2010**, **LucyxInxThexSky**, and **Tannenbaum Bell **i love you even more, and i hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

**(It'll All Work Out) When You Dance**

**Chapter Three**

You lot are used to a life full of music and drama and _fun_. It still bewilders me, sometimes. In Liverpool there was no time for play; it was working, then drinking, and when I was lucky I'd have a beautiful girl who would pull me onto the dance floor. Girls were all a part of a competitive sport, a game: who can knock her up, get hitched, and settle down the quickest. Usually in that order. I wasn't well-trained in the competition, but I was doing just fine until America came into my life like a wild girl who would never play the game.

* * *

Rose's bathroom door has no lock, which concerns Jude greatly, though it doesn't prevent him from stripping and soaking in water filled with bubbles that smell of every fruit he can imagine. It also doesn't prevent her from entering without knocking, ignoring his protests but politely concentrating her gaze on the cream-colored wall. "It's Saturday evening," she announces, "and on Saturday nights I go out. There's this party tonight. Dr. Robert's back in town. It's gonna be big. You coming?"

He props himself partway up, careful to keep a pile of bubbles over a certain area; there are yet more bubbles in his hair, and his wet skin gleams dully beneath the bright overhead light. "If Max and Lucy are there – "

" – then I'll give you money for a bus and you can come back here. C'mon, Jude, this is my last American party. Maybe the last big party of my life. Don't make me go alone."

"Rose," he asks slowly, not paying much attention to her words, "is it possible to have more than one soulmate?"

She looks at him as though he's gone mad. "Of course not. One is all you get. That's just how it works."

He sinks farther down into the water, thoughtful. "Rose, I have two soulmates. I don't – I don't know what to do."

"Max and Lucy," she confirms.

"Yeah."

"Well, that's pretty easy, isn't it? Which way to you swing?"

"I don't know."

She backs up toward the door and at the angle she is standing the curve of her stomach becomes more pronounced. "We'll discuss this more when you're dressed."

* * *

Being with him was so wrong it felt right, and being with you was so right it felt wrong. What kind of a choice is that?

Then again, I suppose you're not to blame. After all, you had the same troubles with one another.

* * *

Lucy's breath catches in her throat. She is suddenly aware of how very naked the both of them are. "Max, I – I'm marrying Jude. I told you that. Don't make me choose between you."

He grins his playboy grin, leans forward and whispers something in her ear; when he backs off she stares at him with a mixture of shock and respect. "Only you would think of that."

"So you'll do it?"

"Of course." There is no question.

"So… you'll marry me?"

She nods, breathless, watching as he slides the ring onto her finger; as soon as the moment is over she entwines her hands in his hair, and raises her eyebrows suggestively. "Now, where were we?"

"Wait," he says, breathless, and it is clear she won't be waiting for long. "I want to know. Why… why did you have a diamond ring in the first place? You – you wouldn't have bought it just to see if I would give it to you, you know that the way I feel about you has nothing to do with a piece of silver."

"It was given to me."

"By Judey?"

"No, before I ever met him." She is growing impatient. "Max, this doesn't matter. Let's just – "

"Is that what this is about? Am I another Daniel?"

"Max…" she breathes, silencing him. She doesn't know if she can stand another minute of conversation, and from what she can feel of his naked body, he's in much the same position. "This isn't about Daniel. This is about you and me, and how I've been waiting… on that doormat… for the longest time. I've been sitting on that doormat and waiting for you. And now that you've finally come for me, well, I don't see what we're waiting for." She puts both hands on the back of his neck and draws him closer to her.

He exhales slowly, his breath tickling her cheek. "I think you've waited long enough."

* * *

I'm not Max. I know that much. I'm not even close. But if a person can only have one soulmate, than he and I must share a soul – we must be one and the same – because you cannot chose between us any more than I could chose between the two of you. Maybe none of us are soulmates. Maybe we are simply thirds of a whole, divided but meant to be together. I don't think it matters, in the end.

* * *

When they are done, they simply lie together, swathed in sheets, hands clasped.

"Max…"

"Yeah?"

"I should have told you sooner. Mom and Dad want us home for Thanksgiving. Jude, too. We're supposed to take the train to back to Jersey on Monday."

"Mhmm… Lucy…" Max asks gently, steering the conversation away from the uncomfortable topic of Jude.

"Mmm?"

"Why do you keep your eyes open when you kiss me?"

She tenses, and rolls over on her side so as not to face him. "You do the same. I suppose I learned it from you."

"You're lying."

"Yeah."

"How about you give me some truth?"

"I just like to be able to see you. To know it's you," she finishes softly, with a slight quiver.

"Afraid you'll call me Jude?"

"Something like that."

He is silent for a moment. Then: "Lucy…"

"Uh huh?"

"Did anything ever happen… between you and Paco?"

There. He's hit the mark. For a moment he wonders why she is shuddering, until he recognizes the telltale signs of silent, heaving sobs. "I can't…" she whispers.

"You don't have to tell me now," he murmurs softly, glad that their positions are back to the way they started, that he is the comforter, the caring one.

"Thank you…" she sighs. Gradually, the weeping ceases; she rolls back over and buries herself in his arms, where he strokes her hair and breathes, "Lucy, Lucy, Lucy…" until she calms.

Once his sister is tranquil again, he allows himself to think about what he has just learned. He hated everything about Paco, from his beard to his boots, and it frightens him that he doesn't know what the other man was capable of; after all, if he can cause this much trouble in death, what had he done in life?

Max remembers the disdainful glances, the superior smirks, every time he came into contact with the man, and that alone makes anger rise in his stomach. He remembers the malicious asides made in his presence, in such a way that Lucy never noticed; how the other man always called him _Sergeant_; the way Paco would make move after move on her, all in his presence. It makes him sick to think of it.

"Lucy…" he mutters, full of a protectiveness that exceeds anything he can ever remember feeling previously; the name tastes like flowers on his tongue, and he basks in the feeling of being so close with her, of knowing he is going to have her forever, that death will never do them part. Jude may be far away, but she is _here_, in his arms, and right now, even with that gaping hole that only his best friend can fill, he is safe, he is contented, he is satisfied.

"Max…?" she questions sleepily.

"Luce?"

"Why will you take your shirt off in front of me but not Jude?"

He is thoughtful for a moment. "Jude is, well, Jude. And I'm Max."

"And I'm Lucy. I don't get it. What are you ashamed of?"

"It's not _shame_, Luce…" he begins, but is distracted as she begins to peck kiss after kiss down his torso, stroking his scars with gentle fingers when she reaches them, kissing lower and lower. "That's it," he murmurs, contented. "A bit farther, now."

She rolls her eyes but obliges.

An hour or so later, when Prudence pushes back the beads and enters, she shrieks. "Shit, I thought you'd be done… I'll just leave…"

Lucy separates from her brother, and rolls over to meet the other woman's eyes. "No problem, Pru, she assures her, "we were just finishing up."

"Right. Well, I just wanted to let you know that Dr. Robert's back in town, and there's a party for him tonight. If you're interested."

"Of course we are," Lucy assures her. "Just let us get dressed."

Dressing is a playful affair, in which Lucy pulls on the clothes of Sadie's that Max had discarded, and he outfits himself in her waitress uniform and a pair of blue jeans, and both smirk at one another, occasionally abandoning the act of clothing themselves to roll around half-dressed on the unmade bed. When they are finally ready to leave it feels too soon, but the others are waiting.

Sadie grins at Max, and asks, "Have a nice time in there, babe?"

"You have no idea. Show her, Luce."

His sister raises her left hand with glistening diamond ring, and everyone cheers except for JoJo, who watches them calculatingly and asks, "What about Jude?"

"You'll see," Max promises.

* * *

You and he had everything under control, but how was I to know that? All I knew was that our situation was impossible to right by proper societal means, that I might never again see your brother shirtless, and that I might no longer be a part of the makeshift family we had formed.

* * *

Dr. Robert's party is just as lavishly colorful as the first time; being there is in itself an amazing trip without a single sip out of the punchbowl. Jude sticks close to Rose, keeping an eye out for Lucy and her mysterious brother. He spots them near Sadie and Prudence, who are dancing wildly together, their respective partners standing back to watch and laugh without a trace of discomfort.

"Rose," he hisses, but suddenly she is nowhere to be found, and Lucy is approaching him before he can duck away.

"Jude," she greets firmly, as though worried that he will disagree.

"Yes, Lucy?"

"There are two things I want to ask you."

"Ask away, love."

She keeps her distance, most likely because having parted ways with him roughly twenty-four hours before makes her wary that she will never really get him back. "Well, I was stupid last night. Can you forgive me?"

He shakes his head. "You weren't stupid, Lucy," he says decisively. "You were right. I'm in love with both of you. I think it's best I stay away from the two of you, at least for a while."

"I've got a better idea," she begins, but then Max joins them.

"How's my favorite fiancé?" he asks, wrapping his arms around her from behind and resting his chin on his shoulder. "Well, my favorite as of yet. Oh," he adds, noticing Jude. "Hey, man. I believe congratulations are in order."

Lucy shakes her head fervently, turning so that her lips are equivalent with his ear. "I haven't asked him yet," she hisses.

Her brother casts around for another topic to cover his blunder. "Great party, huh?"

"Brilliant," Jude agrees cautiously, confused by the change in Max since they parted that morning. "Listen, I've – ah – got to go. Great seeing you."

He slips away and approaches Rose, who is in the midst of an overly-friendly conversation with a Dr. Robert himself. The Doctor scoops for her a glass of pink punch, and she lifts it to her mouth before Jude's hands cup around hers, pulling the drink away from her lips. "The baby, remember?" he reminds her, and she blushes.

"I can't believe I – I got caught up in – let's go, Jude, let's go."

"A _ba_by?" asks Dr. Robert, emphasizing each syllable. "Nice going, man."

Jude opens his mouth to say it isn't his, but she is already tugging him toward the door. Once out in the open air, she leans against the brick wall and rests her head in her hands. "I'm an awful mother," she gasps, "I just… I wasn't thinking…" He takes her in his arms and guides her gently toward the bus stop, murmuring nothings to calm her. It seems an eternity before they are once more riding toward the imposing old house that neither of them will occupy for much longer.

* * *

It's impossible to believe that everything will work out for the best, but it will. You may not know it, but bliss is just around the corner. No, you're not ignorant, I don't know it either. It's just something that's going to happen, regardless of the mess we're in. It's just a thing called fate.

* * *

"Well, that went splendidly," Lucy seethes, helping herself to a sip of her brother's punch, then stealing a kiss from him with sweetened lips.

"I'm sorry, Luce. I'm a fuckup, it's just my nature, I can't help it. Hey, I'm going to go see if Rose or Valarie is around here somewhere." As he leaves her, he overhears his sister saying to JoJo: "That never bodes well."

She has a point. He speaks with Valarie when he feels that he deserves punishment, insults, abuse. She is his female, partying Paco, and when he catches sight of her in a corner, speaking with a friend he has never before met, he would almost rather be playing poker for cigarettes in a tent in the jungle with the music of bombs exploding in the background than approach her.

"Well, if it isn't Sergeant Carrigan," the petite blond greets, looking nothing like Lucy though they might share characteristics. "Max, this is Joan," she introduces. "Joan, Max. Max, what are you doing here?"

"I was hoping I could interest you in a dance."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I can't, I've actually got a boyfriend. _He_'s in Canada," she drawls, with emphasis.

"Really? I hope he's enjoying the endless wasteland of frozen tundra." He doesn't wait for her response. "Listen, Val, have you seen Rose?"

"Yes, actually. She's gotten _bigger_. And it's yours. But you must know all about that, eh?"

"Bigger? What do you… I mean… I – she never said anything."

"Don't start thinking that this is your redemption, Maxwell."

"Never crossed my mind, I assure you. Nice meeting you, Joan." He nods to the unfamiliar woman. "Now, I really must be going."

He slips back into the crowd, where Sadie, Prudence, and Rita are holding hands and dancing in a circle, reminding him of the triangular relationship he has found himself amidst. "Hey, girls, can we talk?" he calls. "It's kind of an emergency."

They follow him out the door in a golden chain; JoJo and Lucy, who had been conversing quietly, follow. Once the entire makeshift family is crowded into a nearby alleyway, he announces. "I spoke to Valarie. She said that Rose has gotten 'bigger.' And, ah, that it's mine."

Lucy's face lights up. "Max, that's brilliant!" she announces, unaware of how much like Jude she sounds. "I mean, I know you've broken up, and Jude and I complicate things…" she trails off.

"I'm happy for you, honey," Sadie puts in.

"I need to find her," he states sharply. "And I need you guys to help me. Sadie, JoJo, check back inside the party. Lucy, come with me to her house. Rita, Pru – " He catches sight of them, standing in the back of the group subtly feeling each other up in a way that makes the cold November night feel warm. " – get a room."

* * *

You've put me in an awkward position, all of you. And in a way, I bloody hate you for it. But I just keep remembering that all we need is love. The thought gets me through the days and nights and sometime soon will bring me back to you.

* * *

Jude may not be comfortable in a kitchen almost as large as his old home in Liverpool, but he has always been the consoling kind, and consoling is never the same without hot chocolate. He finds the chocolate powder in a cabinet in the corner, and two clean mugs in the sink, and sets to work. Seven minutes later he brings them into the living room, where Rose squeals, "Jude! You shouldn't have," and then adds, "Careful not to spill, Mum will have my head if you do."

He laughs and sits down on the couch with her, handing her a steaming mug. "Much better for the baby than pink punch, I'm sure," he laughs, holding up his own cup in a toast to her, then taking a sip. "Shit… burned my tongue," he admits, and she giggles.

There is a pause, not awkward but comfortable, before she tells him, tentatively: "Jude… come home with me."

He freezes. "But… your old boyfriend…" It isn't the proper excuse, but it's the first one that pops into his head.

"He'd be just as happy for you to do it, I'm sure."

"Rose, love, I can't. I've got this massive, crippling amount of hope that everything's gonna work out with Max and Lucy. I can't go while I've got a chance with them, even a slim chance."

She nods, understanding, then makes a face. "Jude, did you make the coco with water?"

"Yeah, o' course, love, why?"

"Tastes better with milk."

"But that's expensive…" he begins, and then laughs. "I suppose I should have."

"It's fine, anyway," she assures him. "Just a little thin."

They talk about nothing and laugh politely for at least another ten minutes before the pounding on the door begins. "If they're looking for me, I'm not here," Jude says quickly, setting down his mug on the coffee table. He grabs his pack, which he had left by the front door hours earlier, grateful that there are no windows in the entry hall, and dashes up the stairs, where he hides himself in the first room he sees.

Back on the ground floor, Rose gracefully opens the door, biting her lip in surprise when she is confronted by an animated Max and apprehensive Lucy. "Hey, man," she greets the male before her, "come on in. You too, Lucy."

They enter; Lucy casually, Max warily. He looks his ex right in the eye. "Valarie told me a funny story," he states, with a sort of military briskness.

"I thought you didn't talk to Val anymore…" Rose trails off uncertainly. "She, you know, thinks you're, ah, a…"

"…baby killer, yeah. But it didn't keep her from mentioning your stomach, or what's inside it. Why didn't you tell me, Rose?"

"We can talk about this some other time," she insists. "How about you come back Wednesday? We'll have a nice, long talk."

"No," Max insists forcefully, and she is beginning to see why he rose so quickly in the army. "We're going to talk now."

"Jude's upstairs," she states quickly, desperately.

"What?" the two siblings ask in unison.

"Yeah, he's been hanging with me since Max kicked him out."

Lucy rounds on Max. "You kicked him out?"

"He hurt you."

"He hurt me by loving _you_!"

"We'd better get upstairs, then."

"Yeah, we'd better."

"Juuudey…" Max calls, dashing up the stairs.

"You didn't trick _me_," Lucy states, once her brother is out of earshot. "You're not telling us something. You _are_ pregnant, aren't you?"

"Yeah, of course," Rose says uneasily; in the background they can both hear Max calling "Jude! Judey!"

"You broke up with my brother for a reason. You don't want him to father your child? Tough shit. You're a bit too late for that, aren't you?"

Rose shakes her head. "I can't do this with him. I'm leaving for England on Tuesday."

Lucy takes a deep breath to steady herself, and then hisses, quietly because she doesn't want Max to overhear. "You can't do this to him. He needs this. It would help him forgive himself; it would help him live again. I'm not asking you to love him; he proposed to _me_ today. I'm just asking that you let this child, _his_ child be a part of his life."

Shaking her head, Rose backs away. "I'm sorry…"

From above their heads comes a shout. "Judey! Man, thank god I found you!"

Lucy is startled. "I thought you were kidding. Jude's up there?"

* * *

I'm not the sneaky kind. I'm not used to running. I'm not used to hiding. You can call me backwards and I won't correct you. I worked in a shipyard and took a girl out every Friday night, and when another guy made a move on her I'd make it clear who she belonged to. Old-fashioned. Until I met you.

* * *

Jude is feeling rather cornered when Max discovers him in the walk-in linen closet, surrounded by shelves of sheets, blankets, and towels, all pristine and white. His next emotion is confused, when Max is neither like the angry man who had ordered him to leave that morning, or the confused one who had congratulated him at the party. "Guess what, Judey?" he asks, excited in the manner of a small child. "I'm engaged to Lucy."

"That's, ah, wonderful news, mate," the Brit answers awkwardly.

"But that's not all," Max continues with a flourish. "I had an idea. A fucking awesome idea, Judey! Just you wait. Lucy's got something to ask you, hang on." He steps out of the closet and opens his mouth to shout, only to find his sister and lover standing beside the mother of his child. "Go on, ask him, Luce," he insists, gesturing her through the door and leading Rose back down the steps. "To give them some space," he explains.

Lucy steps into the semi-darkness of the closet and Jude pulls a nearby string, lighting a bulb attached to the ceiling. "They're so bloody posh they've got lights in their closets," he comments.

"Jude," she begins, her heart pounding.

"Yes, love?"

"I had two things to say to you. You never gave me a chance to say the second."

"And what is this second thing?"

"I was going to ask you to marry me."

He freezes. "But you said… you and Max…"

"We want you to be a part of it. Jude Feeny, will you…" She freezes; the words won't come. "Will you…" She holds up the ring that she bought from the street vender.

He leans in and brushes a soft kiss on her lips. "Of course, love." He holds out his calloused left hand and she slips the ring in place. As he holds up the ring for inspection, something occurs to him. "Max proposed to you."

"Yes."

"You proposed to me."

"Yes…"

"Does this mean I'm expected to propose to _Max_?"

Her pure, shining happiness that began when the ring first touched his skin clouds slightly with anxiety. "You will do it, won't you?"

"We've come this far, love," he answers, with a sort of resolve. "No turning back now."

By the time they emerge from their hideaway and descend the grand stairwell, Max and Rose are standing at opposite sides of the entry hall, not speaking. Jude holds up his hand so that the shining silver is visible.

Both Max and Rose clap, but hers seems forced.

"Come on, love," Max insists, addressing Jude, adopting his manner of speech. "Let's get back to Sadie's and celebrate, eh?"

Jude shakes his head. "I'd rather spend the night here, if it's all the same to you. Collect my thoughts for a bit. I'll be back before Monday, alright?"

"You'd better be," Lucy says matter-of-factly. "You're coming home with us for Thanksgiving."

They say their goodbyes, complete with a kiss from Lucy to Jude and a meaningful look from Max, and then the two are gone, leaving a near-silent house. "Let's finish our chocolate, shall we?" Jude asks, and the two return to the living room without a word.

* * *

I'm not you, and I'm certainly not Max. All I've ever been able to do is watch your fates and try to convince you to change your futures. Well, that time is over. I'm tired of being the passive artist while the two of you get hurt. I'm just not going to stand for it anymore. I hope I'm not too late.

* * *

It is late night by the time Lucy and Max reach Sadie's apartment; she and JoJo are waiting for them, along with assorted others. "I'm guessing you found Jude," one hippie deduces.

"Yeah." Lucy wants to shout her news from the rooftops, but it seems she'll have to make do with announcing it to the room. "I proposed to him. He… he accepted!"

Sadie speaks first. "What're you playin' at, babe? I thought the two o' you…" She gestures toward her and Max.

"The three of us," Lucy announces proudly, and everything turns to chaos.

A hippie whose name she doesn't know hugs her, while another comments, "_You_ proposed to _him_? That's far out, man." She smiles happily.

Max draws her out of the hippie's arms and lifts her into the air, as she squeals. She still isn't used to how strong he's become: all skin and bones but now with lean muscles that she can feel through his shirt.

Everything is made of a kind of obscene happiness that runs through her veins and fogs her vision as her brother sets her on her feet again and they are showered with congratulations from all sides, until someone asks, "Where _is_ Jude, anyway?" and the Rose situation comes rushing back. She looks at Max.

"He just needed some space. He'll – he'll be by tomorrow," he assures the crowd at large.

JoJo and Sadie wait until the celebration is wild enough, then gesture toward the two lovers, the four of them slipping away into Sadie's private quarters. Max notices belatedly that Lucy is still wearing Sadie's clothing, while he is still dressed in her uniform, with a pair of jeans underneath. It seemed fine for a party where everyone would be so intoxicated they wouldn't know the difference, but it's no wonder Rose didn't think he'd be a fit father for her child. He spots his discarded clothing nearby; "May I?" he asks, and Sadie nods. The two women sit on the bed, and the other man on his piano stool.

Once he is dressed, he joins JoJo, disliking the way the other man is watching him. "So, man," JoJo asks, "What happened with Rose?"

"It went alright, you know," he says, and now Lucy's gaze, too, is disconcerting. "She's going to tell her parents on Monday. She doesn't want my help raising it, she's getting an old friend to do that instead. But she said, you know, I could visit them any time I liked…"

"Max," Lucy says softly, "did she tell you she was moving back to England?"

He freezes. "No…" he mutters softly, then louder: "No! You're not serious. She wouldn't do that. She wouldn't…" He blinks away furious tears, hoping that no one will notice.

"I'm sorry, honey," Sadie says softly.

He stands. "Going to bed," he mutters, exiting.

Lucy makes to follow, but JoJo holds out a hand, blocking her. "Give the man some space," he insists.

"I should – I should go home," Lucy says, her elated mood over Jude's answer crushed completely in desolation. It is not the first time she has realized that life is not fair.

Sadie shakes her head. "It's a bit late for that, babe. Just take the couch for tonight."

* * *

It's amazing, it truly is, how the world can be such a wonderful and unjust place, all at the same time. It's wrong that your brother won't see his kid grow up. It's wrong that he won't remove his shirt in front of me.

* * *

"I'm surprised you stayed with me, Jude," Rose mutters, taking a sip of her lukewarm chocolate.

"I couldn't leave you alone. What if something happened? With the baby… Well, I'm not happy with your decisions, but you've got a tiny bit of Max inside you, and I'm not going to let anything happen to the little bugger." He smiles, just a bit, at the thought that in twenty years, give or take, another young man could come to America searching for his unknown father.

"You're leaving tomorrow?"

"I'll be gone as soon as you ring Valarie and have her stay until your parents are home."

"Jude, that's not really necessary…"

"I'll decide what's necessary," he states clearly, reminding her that he is not pleased with her, not in the least bit. "I want you to think about what you're doing," he continues. "As long as Max is married, in one way or another, to his sister and me, he can't have another child. You're taking away his only chance."

"_I'm_ doing what's right," she snaps, suddenly moody. "Go to bed, Jude."

He, too angry with her for words, is more than happy to oblige. "I suppose you've got some posh guestroom set up for me?"

"Down the hall off the kitchen, second door on the left."

He stands. "Sounds like the servant's quarters."

"Well, you said you were here to help me."

He has already left the living room when she calls him back: "Jude"

"Yes, love?"

She slips a ring off of one of her fingers and hands it to Jude. "I know you haven't got much money to buy a ring for Max," she explains

He accepts the gift. "How did you know I was going to ask him?"

"He's asked her, she's asked you. It completes the circle."

"Thanks, Rose," he says, with just a hint of bitterness, because in a way, she is preventing Max – _his_ Max – from ever being complete. "Goodnight."

"'Night."

* * *

We are a circle, not a triangle. A circle has no corners. A circle has no end.

* * *

It is morning when Jude wanders into the kitchen, naked to the waist, to find two women watching him warily. "Rose, Valarie," he greets.

"Jude," Valarie greets tightly, running a hand through her blond curls. She wears a green and violet belly shirt and a bit more makeup than he is accustomed to.

He comments casually, "Didn't know Rose would invite you over so early. Not complaining, though; I really must be on my way. What time is it?"

"About two o'clock," Rose tells him; he had been peering into the fridge for something to eat, but visibly jumps and shuts the door again.

"Shit, I've got to run," he gasps, racing back to the bedroom where he'd stayed to pull on a shirt and jacket, sling his back over his shoulder, and return to the kitchen. "So I suppose this is goodbye," he says, pulling the darker-haired woman into a tight but quick hug. "Maybe I'll come see you sometime, if I visit home, yeah?"

"That'd be great, Jude."

He turns to leave, but then spins back around. "I, ah, haven't got the money for a bus."

Smiling securely, Rose opens a nearby cabinet and pulls out a jar, from which she takes a wad of cash. "Take a taxi," she insists.

"You don't have to – "

"It's my parents' money. Just take it."

He doesn't need telling twice. "I'll see you around, then, Val… Good luck, Rose…" He is out the door in an instant, though it is a good fifteen minutes before a cab passes by.

Caught between elation and nervousness, Jude makes his way up the never-ending stairs of Sadie's building; the steps no longer bother him as they did the first day; he supposes all his traipsing through the city in the past couple years has made him more fit. Before he opens the door he listens to the raised voices within: "Just give it a few minutes more, honey, he'll turn up."

The door swings open in his face, revealing an irritated Max in front of a concerned Lucy and apprehensive Sadie. "Jude," Max says sharply.

Jude feels uncomfortable with all six eyes fixed on him. He wishes someone would look away. "Sorry I wasn't here earlier, mate, I overslept."

"With Rose?"

"In her guest room, yeah. I didn't want to desert you guys like that, but I didn't want to leave her alone with the baby. Val came to take the next shift, 'til her Mum and Dad get home…"

"…and then she leaves on Tuesday, yeah."

Jude freezes. "You know."

"Yeah, Luce told me. It was gonna come out sooner or later. But come on, get inside, man, no need to stand on the doorstep."

"Actually, mate," Jude answers carefully, "I thought we might go for a walk. Just the two of us. You in?"

"Yeah, man," Max replies, though he is eyeing the other man strangely, "I'm in." He turns back to Lucy. "I'll meet you at the protest later, alright?"

Her eyes are shining. Jude has the sneaking suspicion that she knows what is about to transpire. "Yeah, alright."

* * *

It's like I said before: we're thirds. I may have left school at fifteen to work in the shipyard, but not before I learned that three thirds make a whole.

* * *

They sit side-by side on the dilapidated wooden boat, the bottom of which has filled with water that pools around their boots. Jude turns away from the sea to point to the nearby brick building.

"See that picture there?"

"The one that looks like Lucy?"

"That_is_ Lucy, mate. I drew it."

"Judey! Defacing city property? Tsk, tsk." There is a pause, before Max admits, "I came here with her, too. Just after I left the hospital."

"Did you?" There is a faraway look in Jude's eyes. He fingers something in his coat pocket.

"She said to me: 'Take these broken wings and learn to fly.' Well, I'm not nearly intoxicated enough to fly at the moment, but it was a nice thing to say."

"Don't want you wasted right now, anyways, mate," Jude says, would-be casual. I'm gonna ask you something, and I want an honest answer."

"Will I be your wife? Why, I'd love to, Judey."

Jude slaps his friend, lightly. "You always ruin everything, you crazy bugger, you know that?"

"And you love me for it."

"Yeah, mate, I do. Will you marry me, Maxy-Poo?" he asks, copying the nickname that Prudence uses so often. Jude takes the ring from his pocket and holds it out.

There is a long pause, and then Max begins to ramble. "You're not just doing this because you feel… obligated, are you, man? Cause, you know, I'd understand if you didn't want to – "

"I'm doing this because I love you, mate. I told Lucy as much, right here, ages ago. You can ask her if you like."

"You loved me before. You couldn't love me now. I'm not… lovable… anymore."

Anger flares in Jude's chest. "And who told you that, eh? Valarie?"

"Well, yes, but… It's true, I don't deserve…."

"You do! And you're a bloody loony if you think otherwise. Take the ring, Maxwell. Go on. Take it."

Tentatively, Max reaches out, then snatches up the small piece of metal, lightning-fast, as though worried that the other man will change his mind. He slips it onto his slim, pale finger and holds his hand up to admire it. A grin spreads across his scrawny features, a contagious grin that Jude catches immediately.

"You're mine now, love," says Jude, and it feels so _good_, because he has never before dared call the blond by such a nickname. "'Til death do us part."

A seagull passes overhead, and Max stands suddenly, stepping off the boat onto solid ground. "Race you back to Sadie's!" he calls, and takes off.

Jude leaps to his feet, dashing after the older man. Max may have the advantage of a head start and vigorous army training, but his friend – lover, now – has longer legs, strong from years of labor. The chase lasts a good five minutes, along the paved path by the water's edge, but before long Jude has wrapped his arms around the other from behind, nearly tripping them both in the process. He puts his lips to his query's neck, trailing kisses along the back of it before choosing just the right place to suck on the tender flesh.

"Mmm… Judey…. That's gonna leave a mark…"

Jude spins his lover around in his arms, pushes blond hair out of those beautiful blue eyes, and aims his next kiss at the lips he has craved for as long as he can remember, chapped and colorless and delicious. Tongues touch, circle each other, explore, and it doesn't end until they are starved for air.

Jude leans in for more but Max puts a hand over the other's mouth. "Shouldn't be doing this without Lucy," he scolds lightly. "And everyone else will want to celebrate with us. We should get back."

"Aw, come on, mate. I'm too tired to walk back just yet. Let's just sit around here, and do… what we do… just a little bit more. It'd give me some energy."

Max shakes his head. "Don't you realize what this means? You, me, Luce… all together? The three of us, sharing a bed? _Three_ of us? If you're so goddamn tired I'll just have to carry you, man, cause I just can't fucking wait. Hop on my back, won't ya?"

"I'm twice your weight!" Jude exclaims, though Max's words have rendered him just as excited as the other man.

"Oh, that's right. I guess _you'll_ just have to carry _me_." Max runs and jumps on Jude's back, wrapping his arms around the brunette's neck. "To Lucy!" he exclaims jubilantly. "Hurry up, horsey."

"Right you are," grumbles Jude. Max alternates between stroking his lover's hair and leaning around to kiss his cheeks, the both of them grinning like maniacs.

"You'd_ better_ take off that fucking shirt of yours, after all this," Jude murmurs, and can't see how the other man goes pale, though the kissing and petting continues.


	4. There'll Be A Party

**Disclaimer:** i do not own.

**Warnings: **slash, incest, polygamy, nudity, language

**Author's Notes: **i told you two weeks, but i got it to you in one! i just love you guys so much that i wrote my ass off so you wouldn't have to go too long without a post. although i've had to pretty much neglect my schoolwork in order to work on this and my other stories, so i might have to spend a bit of time catching up on that before i can get you another chapter. :(

**A/N (3/24):** why did no one tell me that the dividers between scenes hadn't showed up for this chapter?! the document manager has been quite a pain, lately, messing up the formatting on all my stories. so i'll just be fixing that now, as best i can. sorry for any inconvenience.

**Thank-Yous:** to last chapter's reviewers.**TakeMeOrLeaveMe2010**,** amatorius48**,** Tannenbaum Bell**, **LucyxInxThexSky**, **kaaaleidoscope**, and **BrizyBDarling**. To those of you who didn't review, i encourage you to do so next time; i'd love to hear what you think of my story.

* * *

**When You Dance (There'll Be A Party)**

**Chapter Four**

Max is a ferris wheel, spinning and spinning: he's up and then he's down. I think you and I are the ultimate test for him, aren't we? Is love really all you need?

"Shit, man, I can't see her from here. Mind if I get up on your shoulders?"

"Course I do. You tryin' to break my back?"

Max scrambles from his lover's back up onto his shoulders, ignoring groans of protest. "Don't be such a drama queen, Judey. Oh, I see her, there she is!" He cups his hands around his mouth and shouts: "Lucy! Luce, come 'ere."

She must have heard and seen him, because a moment later she has struggled upstream through the crowd in the street to join them. "Put me down, put me down," Max gasps, and Jude is all too happy to clumsily oblige.

Before either man can give an explanation of what has transpired between them, Lucy has grasped her brother's bejeweled hand and squealed with happiness. "This is real, isn't it?" she asks breathlessly. "The three of us, we're…"

Jude nods. "C'mon love, let's go back to your place to celebrate."

"Not Sadie's?" she questions.

"Not for _this_ kind of celebration," Max puts in, waggling his eyebrows at her.

They chase each other down the familiar, crowded streets, past Café Huh, past Sadie's place, pushing through crowds of hippies and cops and all those in between. It seems ages before they have collapsed on the neatly-made double bed, panting and giggling.

"Lock the door," Jude commands no one in particular.

"Afraid to be seen with us, Judey?" the other man asks playfully.

"I just like my privacy, alright?"

"Lock it yourself, then." Max rolls on top of Jude, stomach to stomach, so that their faces are inches apart. "But first you've got to get past me."

"Fuck," Jude whispers.

"Sounds like a plan," Max says teasingly. He leans down and plants a kiss on Jude's neck. "Still wanna go for that door?"

The Brit moans in response. Max leans forward for another, but is startled by the sound of the clearing of a throat. It is Lucy. "Remember me?" she asks, with a hint of displeasure.

"Of course, darling sister," insists Max. "How about you help me get Judey's pants off?"

Jude pouts. "Yours first, mate."

Max is more than happy to oblige, with a bit of help from the other two. After a long process involving much kissing and panting, they are all stripped, lying nestled together beneath a bright red blanket – all stripped, that is, except for Max, whose t-shirt remains in place, despite much pulling and tugging and a small amount of tickling. They all lay still for several hushed seconds. Then: "I've never done this with three before," Lucy admits awkwardly.

Another pause, before: "Nor have I," Jude confesses.

They both look to Max, who cringes under their stares. He doesn't like being _looked at_ anymore, but he's loath to admit it. There is a silence, before: "Alright, alright, I haven't either!" he declares, blushing in embarrassment.

"Well, we'd all better figure out how… this is it from now on, you know?"

This truth does not seem to have hit Max yet. "Wait… did I just agree to…"

"Be true to us for the rest of your life? Yes you did, you whore!" Lucy laughs, kissing his cheek.

Max joins in with the laugher. "Well I suppose that's it, then," he says. "We might as well get started, stop lying around like a bunch of virgins."

"One last thing then, isn't there, mate?" questions Jude.

"Can't think of anything, no," replies Max, evasively.

Jude and Lucy share a look. "Your shirt," the woman finally says.

Max crosses his arms over his chest and doesn't speak.

Lucy is confused. "Max, you took it off for me yesterday, what's…"

"Judey."

Jude appears just as bewildered, with a hint of annoyance. "We're, ah, engaged, mate."

"Yeah, so?"

"Well, I dunno. You'll show me your cock, but not your chest. That's a bit odd, mate."

"Will you both just shut up and fuck me already?"

* * *

So it wasn't ideal. The bed wasn't lined with flowers, birds didn't sing, and it wasn't even our wedding night. I minded none of that. Flowers would just get messy, birds are annoying, and love is all that matters. There was only one thing that bothered me.

Yeah, you guessed it. He kept that shirt on the whole goddamned time.

* * *

Sadie has been expecting them for quite some time when they finally traipse through the door, hands in hands, murmuring softly to one another. Lucy is in the center, a man to each side, her yellow hair almost as messy as Max's. Jude's tresses, of course, remain as perfect as ever.

"I suppose you lovebirds had some fun this afternoon," Sadie purrs playfully, smirking.

Jude's cheeks tinge with pink, and Max lets out a whoop of laughter. "Are you _blushing_, man?"

The other man straightens and runs a hand through his hair. "No."

"You are!" Lucy exclaims, giggling.

"I don't _blush_…" Jude begins, but no one is listening because Rita, JoJo, and a few varied others have come to gather round.

"Show me your rings, all of you," Prudence commands, and the three obediently hold out their hands for inspection. "I like Max's best," she decrees. "Which one of you gave it to him?"

Lucy points at Jude.

"And where did you find such a _lovely_ piece of jewelry, Judey-Poo?"

"That's my secret," he insists, not wanting to drag up Rose's name and destroy a wonderful day, or to admit that he hasn't more then twenty cents to his name, certainly not enough to pay for a ring.

"I think it's about time we celebrated," JoJo's low voice announces, to which there is much cheering.

_Celebrating_ involves copious amounts of various intoxicating substances, and a microphone and speaker set up in one corner, at which they take turns belting out various tunes to the best of their abilities. A hippie with acoustic guitar sits on a chair to the left side of the microphone, and another with a bass and amp to the right. Lucy sings first, a melody she remembers from an idealic school dance an eternity ago, before her brave little soldier went traipsing off to boot camp.

"_It feels so right, now hold me tight…"_

Jude is seated on the sofa with a bottle of beer, but not for long. The drink is pried from his hands and set on the floor by a persistent Max, who insists: "Your own engagement party is no time to be drinking alone, man." He finds himself in the air, with the blond's arms wrapped around his chest. "Put me down, you bugger – " And then he is on his feet again, with an arm around his waist, and a hand holding his, pulled into a bizarre sort of waltz.

"…_tell me I'm the only one, and then I might…"_

The waltz turns into more of a tango, and then they are holding hands and spinning so that the world revolves around them with alarming speed. Max maliciously loosens his grip on his lover's hands once they are rotating so quickly that all is a blur, and Jude crashes into Rita, bringing her to the floor with him.

"…_never be the only one…"_

Rita is less than pleased, but Jude quickly points at the brazenly grinning Max, redirecting her anger. Sadie sneaks up behind Jude and grabs his hand; catching the spirit of the party, he twirls in a circle and then leans in close so that he can smell her perfume. "One for good luck?" he asks.

"…_so hold me tight…"_

Her lips brush his cheek for just a moment before backing off again to a cry of: "Lips off my fiancé!"

"…_tonight, tonight…"_

The two of them turn on Max, who has a hand over his mouth, stifling his mirth. "That was so fun to say. My fiancé. My fiancé!" Then his grin fades. "What was my fiancé doing kissing Sexy Sadie?"

Jude steps back and allows the older woman to take both of Max's hands.

"…_it's you…"_

"Just a congratulatory kiss, babe. I suppose you would like one as well?" Max nods, speechless, while Jude watches with a silly smile on his lips.

"…_you, you, you."_ Lucy completes her song with a flourish, and steps away from the microphone to wild cheering, before noticing Sadie's and Max's mouths coming dangerously close. She does the only sensible thing and grabs her brother from behind, pulling him into her arms. "Your turn to sing, Sadie," she says casually, as though nothing is wrong.

Sadie takes the microphone to yet more fanatical cheering. "Quiet down a bit, would you?" she cautions, "We don't need anyone sayin' we're disturbin' the peace." This is met by mild laughter. "Alright, now," the singer continues, "this one's for our three beautiful lovers. JoJo, baby, take the guitar." The hippie who had been playing previously passes her instrument over to a purple-clad JoJo, who seats himself easily in the chair and strums a few chords. The whole room watches the musicians expectantly, Lucy with a hint of something unrecognizable.

"_I've got a feeling, a feeling deep inside…"_

"So, Maxwell, what exactly were the two of you doing?" Lucy questions dangerously.

"Jude-started-it," he gasps, but pulls her back when she starts toward the other man, obliviously involved in a casual conversation with Rita. "Look, Luce, I think you're a bit too sober." He lifts Jude's abandoned beer, takes a swig, then passes it over, turning away from her in search of a more pleasant activity.

"…_I've got a feeling, a feeling I can't hide…"_

She accepts the drink and sips it gingerly, but warns him: "I'm still not happy with you, Maxwell."

"…_yeah, yeah, I've got a feeling, yeah…"_

This must hit a nerve, because when he spins back around, taking deep, heaving breaths; his eyes are suddenly haunted, more so than she can ever remember. "Yeah?" he asks, fists clenched furiously tight. "Well you're the only _fucking_ one, aren't you?" He has stumbled out the door and closed it behind him before she can even think to follow.

* * *

I'm not perfect, but I try. That 'all artists are sensitive' rumor clearly came from a bull's arse. In the end, I'm a warm body who'll protect him from the cold; I'm there on a good day and I'm there on a bad day, and that's about as much as I can guarantee.

* * *

"…_I've got a feeling that keeps me on my toes…"_ Sadie howls; a crowd stands in a semi-circle around her, but the lovers to whom she sings and not among them.

Jude is deep in conversation with Rita when Lucy grabs his shoulder and pulls him around to face her. He notices a beer in her free hand. "Lucy, love, are you drunk?" he questions flippantly.

"…_I've got a feeling, I think that everybody knows…"_

"No. Shit, Jude, what was my brother doing with Sadie?"

"What?" He is confused for a moment. "Oh. She was just giving us good-luck kisses. Or kisses of congratulation, however you look at it."

"…_yeah, yeah, I've got a feeling, yeah…"_

Lucy exhales sharply. "Then why did he…"

Suddenly, Jude is nervous. "Why did he _what_?"

"…_Ev'rybody had a hard year…"_

"Well, he, you know, ran. Stormed off. I don't get it. He was _happy_, he was having a _great_ day, considering all that shit with Rose last night. He was – he was _Max_, god damn it. And then… I've – I've never seen him like that. I'm scared to go after him."

"…_Ev'rybody saw the sunshine…"_

"I'll do it," sighs Jude. He takes a step toward the door.

"Wait!" She approaches him quickly, pecks a kiss on his cheek. "Another good-luck kiss for you," she whispers. "I think you're going to need it."

Sadie's singing is audible but indiscernible once he closes the door behind him, taking the steps two at a time. One floor down, he hears a door slam. He curses and speeds up, descending at a rapid speed. The door seems to approach him, not the other way around, and he heaves open, flying out into the cold night air. Once more he doesn't have a coat, and November is icy, colder than it ever was in Liverpool, but it doesn't matter, because this is Max, _his_ Max, and he has to save him from whatever fate has driven the man away from the warmth and safety that his two lovers offer.

Jude has a feeling he knows right where his best friend – and now more – is headed. He rounds the corner, breathing on his hands to warm them, then down the block, and around another corner, to the back of Sadie's building, where he spies a familiar figure climbing the fire escape. The top of this structure might belong to Prudence, but the cold, metal stairway between the highest and next-highest floor has always been the property of the two of them, no matter what relationship they share. "Oy! Mate!" Jude calls, beginning the laborious climb and wishing he had thought to come the easier way, out the bathroom window.

By the time he reaches his destination the distressed blond is already seated there, head in hands. His voice is muffled by his fingers: "Where's Lucy?"

"You, ah, scared her off, mate."

"Aw, fuck." He aims a kick at an empty beer can situated on the step below them, but misses and has to grab Jude's shoulder to steady himself.

"You left without an explanation," Jude remarks carefully.

"She said, 'I'm not happy with you,'" he pronounces carefully, with an unexplained bitterness.

"Yeah?"

"Well, I always used to hear the opposite. 'I'm happy with you, Carrigan, you're a good shot.' 'I'm happy with you, you've made Corporal already.' 'You're a Sergeant now? I'm happy for you,' like it's some twisted fucking game. And that's all it really is, it's a game and it turns out I'm fucking good at it. I don't know how you can look at me, Judey-baby."

Jude is glad that the other man reaches out to hold his hand, until he feels something small and metallic drop into his palm.

"Thank you for the wonderful day." Max stares at something behind the brunette's head. "Thank you for the kisses, and the threesome with my sister. Thank you for giving me a chance. I'm sorry; I'm just not what you want."

Jude is taken aback, but quickly recovers. "Don't tell me what I bloody want and don't want. Put that shiny silver ring back on."

"I'm not a dumbfuck, Judey. I've seen it on Rose's finger."

"Yeah, alright, so I'm short on cash. It still means just the same. Put the damn thing on, will you?"

He hands it back, and Max reluctantly complies, then stares down at the piece of jewelry as though attempting to set fire to it with his eyes. "What's that triangular thing inside the circle, anyway? It looks like a tiny piece of pie."

"That_is_ a piece of pie, mate. Rose calls it her 'desert ring.'"

"I like it." Max drops his hand back by his side, and then shivers. "Freezing out here, isn't it?"

"Back inside, then?"

"Nah… don't think I could deal with that just now."

"We could always go to Lucy's."

"Too far."

"We'll just have to hide in the bathroom, then." He peers up through the glass into said room. "Hey, no way… it's got a mirror!"

"Oh, yeah. Put that in yesterday."

"Well you bloody well should have told me," he comments, not at all annoyed. "C'mon, let's get inside."

They wrench open the window with much difficulty and clamber over the ledge and into the bathroom, Max first and Jude scrambling past the windowsill to land on top of the former man. He scuttles like a spider off of his lover and to the window, which he closes with a sharp exhale. "Cold in here, too."

"Come 'ere, I'll warm ya up."

"Just a minute, mate, I've got to admire myself in this fabulous mirror. Care to join me?"

Obediently, the other male stands, and the two stare deep into their reflections; they look nothing like the carefree runaways who first found themselves in this very apartment, years ago. Instead, there is a haggard, drawn quality around the American's eyes, and the Brit is pale as a ghost. "Enough of that," Max says after several hushed seconds; he drops to the floor, sitting against the wall. "Judey, come warm me up."

More than happy to comply, Jude straddles his lover, wrapping his arms around his neck and burying his face in his shoulder. "This warm enough for you, mate?"

Time passes; inevitably the door opens and in walks JoJo, already unzipping his fly, not catching sight of the two men on the floor until Jude clears his throat. "You, ah, might want to use the other toilet, mate."

JoJo nods, offering them a half-smile, and shuts the door once more.

* * *

He's like the weather, your brother: he changes. I've learned to change with him. Together we are snowstorms, then foggy mornings, then sunny afternoons. Where do you fit in? Well, you're that person on the ground who always has an umbrella.

* * *

The conversation drifts through the crack under the door to his ears, still blurry, half-asleep: two familiar people are speaking, casually, in the "whatever room."

Sadie's, husky, bottomless voice is the first that Jude is aware of, before he opens his eyes; she says, "Don't worry, babe. I'd be happy to do it."

Max is next. "But – you haven't got a license – "

Jude can almost hear her smile. "Since when does a girl need a license to tell a few lovers to stay true to each other 'til kingdom come?"

"Thanks, Sadie."

"No problem. Just put my shirt back before you leave."

Groaning, Jude rubs at his eyes before finally opening them; the hard surface he is lying on is the cold bathroom floor. Before he can curl his way into a sitting position, the door opens, hitting his leg rather sharply and making him wince. Next comes Max's voice, loud and clear: "Juuuddeyyyyyyyyyyy!"

Jude does the only logical thing and kicks at his lover's feet, causing him to topple to the floor. The blond man splutters, struggling to sit up, clutching his head. "Jude, man, what the _hell_ was that for?"

Jude, still groggy, raises his eyebrows. "I was _sleeping,_ mate."

"Tough shit. We've got a train to catch, remember?"

"Wha…?"

"We're going back to Jersey for Thanksgiving. Lucy didn't tell you?"

"Might have mentioned it, yeah."

"Well, I already packed your bag, it's in the taxi. Let's get going, hmmm?"

Jude reaches his hands up and Max clasps them, pulling the other man to his feet with a surprising strength. Jude sways in his arms for a minute, and then steadies himself. The blond leads him from the apartment, calling a quick, "Bye, Sadie," over his shoulder.

"Yeah, ah, goodbye, Sadie," Jude mumbles, still bleary with sleep.

Max is openly laughing by the time they are halfway down the stair. "I've got a killer hangover and I'm more alert than you," he chortles. "Does little Judey need more beauty rest?"

"I'm on an artist's schedule, mate," Jude protests. "I'm up when I like and I crash when there's no more inspiration to be had. I'm not daft enough to think I can make a living off transporting hassled New Yorkers to locations I've never heard of." By now they have exited the building and are out in the open air. The driver of the yellow taxi parked on the curb honks at them, and it takes Jude a moment to realize that it is Lucy.

"Come_on,_man," Max insists, dragging and heaving him into the back seat of the cab.

Jude groans wordlessly. "I thought ya said somethin' 'bout a train…"

"Yeah, we're driving to the train station. And for a guy who's just slept fifteen hours straight, you should be alert enough to figure that out for yourself."

Not listening closely, Jude only catches one word. "Straight? 'M not straight…"

He is drowned in wild laughter from the other two, laughter that spills out of the opened windows and causes passersby to stare.

* * *

I honestly don't remember if I agreed to this: the long ride with nothing for amusement but the trees out the window and your brother's sleepy head against my shoulder. But that wasn't the part I minded.Everything was fine until you opened that pocket in your purse, and I realized the kind of war zone we were entering.

* * *

"Alright, boys," Lucy says, wincing as her two lovers perk up at the sound of her voice. She wishes she had some kind of good news; but she doesn't, not this time. "Rings off." She holds open a compartment in the back of her leather purse as they both stare at her, uncomprehending. All ten of her fingers are unadorned.

"What?" asks Jude, though Max is already slipping off the silver ring with its picture of a slice of pie, dropping it in the designated pouch.

"Mom and Dad," Lucy explains swiftly. "They find out the three of us are engaged and god knows what they'll do to us. "C'mon, Jude,_please_ don't raise a shit about this, I don't like it any more than you do."

His own ring is a bit too tight on his finger, and it takes him a moment before it is safely hidden away with the other two.

"Now, let's review," says Lucy, and she has that brave quality to her voice, the one that means she's close to breaking down already. "Jude and I are dating but not yet engaged. Max is still dating Rose, who is not the slightest bit pregnant. We are law-abiding citizens and live in a nice part of town. We have no tendencies toward homosexuality, incest, or polygamy in the slightest. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," says Max in his best military bravado.

"Max!"

"Excuse me. Yes, Ma'am." He means to say it cheerfully, and maybe he succeeds, but he can't help the look he gives his sister afterwards, one of helpless anger that he shouldn't be directing at her.

"What is it, Max?" she finally asks him after several moments of his stare.

He doesn't speak for a moment, and when he does his tone is playful, though it is unclear whether or not he is joking. "I know you, Luce," Max says finally. "You're a protester. You… you protest things. You should be out on the streets, waving a sign, calling for the rights of all those in gay, incestuous, polygamous relationships everywhere, not collecting rings in your purse."

"Well," she says, before spending a moment searching for the proper response. When it doesn't come to her, she simply answers: "I've just… chosen my battles, alright?"

"Yeah?" questions Max, in that tone he gets sometimes, when his mind crouches in sludgy, knee-deep water and listens to explosions in the background. "Lucky you." It isn't the right thing to say at all, and maybe that's why the three of them hush up so suddenly after, feeling the train's steady rhythm beneath their feet.

* * *

He's up and then he's down; he's new and then he's old. None of us wanted to do this family thing. I write to my mum at least once a month, and you receive calls from yours, but Max can't be bothered.

Sometimes I think if I can stare at him for long enough I can figure out what's going through that crazy head of his. Possibilities wheel through my own: he can't be bothered to pick up a phone; he'd much rather spend time with you or I; he doesn't want to contact a parent when he's had too much to drink. I think I may have finally deciphered, him, though, when this thought comes racing through: in glorifying him, they've betrayed him.

* * *

"_Lu_-cy." The name is called, sing-song from across the parking lot, by a middle-aged, grey-haired woman who waves frantically at the three who have just exited the train station, each with a bag over his or her shoulder. Lucy herself is in the middle, a man to each side; she slows down at the sound of her name, as though to gain just one more second out of the presence of her mother.

"C'mon, Luce," says Max, who once would have copied her speed but now is anxious to enter the fray as quickly as possible so as to relieve the horrible anxiety that builds in his stomach while he waits and dreads this moment. He breaks into a jog, and the other two see no choice but to do the same.

Mrs. Carrigan kisses the top of her daughter's forehead when they finally meet up; she nods to her son but otherwise treats him as a statue, untouchable. "Jude," she greets warmly. "Feenon, was it?"

"Feeny," Lucy automatically corrects.

"Lucy… Feeny," her mother murmurs softly to herself, almost inaudibly; the three share panicked glances, but then quickly look away. "Well, get on in," says the older woman cheerfully. The lovers make to all pile in the backseat of the sedan, but Mrs. Carrigan has other plans: "Don't be silly, you can't possibly all sit back there. Maxwell, get in the front with me."

Max freezes. He knows what she is doing. A car is the perfect place to make a personal conversation impersonal. No eye contact, just passing cars and vast stretches of street. He climbs into the front seat beside his mother, who unsurprisingly doesn't look at him, but concentrates on backing the car out of its parking space and steering her way out of the lot, onto the open road. "I'm glad to see you looking so good, Maxwell."

He concentrates on his warped reflection in the rearview mirror. "So it's 'Maxwell' now, is it?"

"Of course. You're all grown up now. Lucy showed me that picture of your girlfriend when your father and I visited, remember? She seems a very fine girl. I'm sure you'll be engaged in no time. I'd be delighted to help you choose a ring for such a gorgeous woman."

"No thanks, Mom," he says quietly.

"What?" she questions. "Didn't catch that. But never mind. Your father will be thrilled to see how well you're doing. And you've become quite handsome, Maxwell. That moustache really suits you."

In the backseat, Jude puts a hand to his mouth to stifle a snicker while Lucy rolls her eyes and rests her head on his shoulder.

The voluble woman does not cease her chatter, carrying on without noticing her son mouthing, clearly in distress, "Shut _up_," and leaning against the glass which fogs with his breath; she continues: "I'm sure I can find you a girl back home, if it doesn't work out with the one you've found in the city. You're the talk of the neighborhood. My beautiful brave soldier boy." She leans over and strokes the hair over his left ear, gently, without taking her eyes off the road.

It seems an eternity later when they pull into the Carrigan's driveway, an infinity of uncomfortable silences and awkward questions answered with discomfited lies.

Fortunately, Mr. Carrigan has not returned from work when they enter the house, and they are sent to their respective bedrooms; Jude is given a blanket and matching sheet and told to sleep on the floor of Max's room. He gets delightfully dirty ideas just imagining it.

Max's mother's voice is heard only moments later outside the door to the room where the two young men sit on the twin bed, lustful but unsure of where to begin. The American has begun to gently suck on the other's neck.

She asks if she can come in.

"Just a minute, Mom. We're, ah, changing. That's right… changing. We'll be out in a minute."

"I'll wait right here for you," comes the strident voice on the other side of the door.

Max grins impishly. "Come on, Judey," he hisses, as low as he can, "let's take this party to Lucy's, shall we?"

"But – your mum – "

Max gestures him eagerly to what appears to be a cupboard in the wall beneath the window. Opening it, he reveals a mass of blackness; the room's one lamp fails to cast any light inside.

"Don't think Lucy's in there, mate," Jude tells the other man, careful to keep his voice down.

"Don't be stupid, man. It's a crawlspace. There's a door to it in every room. Lucy's is three doors down." The sound of something small scurrying inside, louder than their own speech, startles Jude but not Max.

"There's a rat in there, mate. No way am I going in. Now, we'd better actually change before your mum begins to suspect – "

"We don't have _rats_, this isn't Liverpool. Just a mouse. Don't you turn into a girl on me."

Jude sighs, but thinks of the reward at the end of the passageway. "I suppose you know best. Lead the way, Carrigan." For once, the false militarism in the British man's tone does not bother his lover, who creeps through the opening on all fours, whispering: "Close the door behind you." It is awkward in the darkness, the brunette pulling the door as far closed as he can until it pinches his fingers and he inches away, knees dragging against the rough wooden floor.

"One door," Max calls, quietly.

The reply is a squeal; "I think I just put my hand in rat shit," Jude whimpers.

"_Mouse_ shit, Judey. Honestly. Voice down. There's the second door."

In the background, they hear Mrs. Carrigan's shrill tone: "You boys alright in there? I'll count to ten, and then I'm coming in. Ten…"

"Shit, man, you closed the door, right?"

"Ah, couldn't get it all the way…"

"…nine, eight… Maxwell, can you hear me? Seven…"

"Fuck, you've gotta be kidding me," Max hisses, his concern coming across in a harsh briskness. "Alright, here's her door… I can't get it open. You still behind me, man?"

"Where else would I be? Just knock on the door, mate, you're holding up rodent traffic."

Fainter now, in the distance: "Six. Five. Four, three."

Rapping his knuckles sharply against the wood, Max pants in the musty air. The door swings open to reveal Lucy's face, incredulous: "What the hell do you think you're doing?" In response Max pushes past her and collapses on the rug as Jude quickly follows. The two men lie gasping on her floor, grateful beyond belief to no longer be suffocating in blackness, while she closes the small door. "What were you _thinking_?" she inquires disbelievingly.

"I guess I was a bit smaller when I used to visit you this way," her brother wheezes, his straw-colored hair sticking out in all directions.

"Ah, mate?" Jude asks tentatively, the smallest bit of disgust evident in his tone. "I wasn't kidding about that rat crap."

"_Mouse_ crap, man!"

Lucy points to a plain white door with shiny brass knob. "Bathroom through there," she informs him, barely able to refrain from laughing.

Jude stands and stretches; all his muscles seem to have seized up during his short time in the crawlspace. He hobbles to the door and wrenches it open, disappearing inside, keeping comments about her posh private bathroom to himself.

"Any particular reason for this visit, Sir?" Lucy asks with an artificial airiness.

"None at all, Ma'am," he replies evenly.

With an unusual bluntness, she informs him: "You're sexy even when you're covered in dust and lying sprawled on my carpet." It's the first time she's spoken to him like this out loud; the words feel good against her tongue, smooth and certain.

"Care to join me?" questions he, silkily.

She wants to, but she knows what is fair. "Let me get Jude. I'll just be a minute."

Entering without knocking, she finds the brunette now shit-free, washing the dirt from his face. "Lucy," he greets.

"My strong, tough shipyard worker has met his match." She grins at him teasingly. "A pile of mouse shit."

He bats her playfully on the shoulder; she grasps his hand and tugs him out of the bathroom to where Max is waiting for them. They both tackle him at once, but Jude is the faster, resulting in a stack of three lovers, one on top of another. Max from the bottom, grunts: "Bit old for pig-piles, aren't we?" and the other two roll off of him, one to each side. This time, Lucy moves more quickly, capturing Max's lips with her own before her competition can get his bearings.

"Lucy, can I come in?" Mrs. Carrigan calls through the door.

Lucy gasps in shock; Max uses his common sense to pull Jude under her bed with him, and she pulls sheets and blankets to hang over the side of the bed, blocking them from view. "Sure, Mom," she calls.

The older woman enters to find her daughter standing stiffly in the center of her room. "Have you seen the boys?" she inquires of her daughter, then giggles piercingly and corrects herself: "The young men, I should say."

"Aren't they in Max's room?" asks Lucy nonchalantly.

"No, I just checked; they were gone, and the door to the crawlspace was open. A bit old for that sort of thing, though, aren't they?"

Lucy shrugs. "Boys will be boys."

"Men," her mother corrects sharply.

"Of course," says Lucy, beginning to grow agitated; fortunately, her mother does not notice.

"Dinner in ten minutes," Mrs. Carrigan notifies her daughter, and then exits. Lucy can hear her retreating footsteps descend down the stairs and away.

The emerging Max and Jude muffle their laughter with fists to their mouths, while Lucy slaps them each in turn, and guides them out into the hallway, where they march back to Max's room in amusement and pride.


	5. It Never Stays A Secret

**Disclaimer:** i do not own.

**Author Notes:** you're probably wondering why this chapter was late. well, it had something to do with the previous chapter getting so few reviews - i figured that all of you must not have read it yet, or you would have reviewed, so i gave it some extra time. want your weekly update? review!

**A/N 2:** i set my friend josh the task of searching through the entire fandom to find my stories. purely because the thought of him going through each story, one by one, trying to find two stories based on pretty much useless clues, was pretty amusing. but here's the most obvious clue of all: josh, if you're reading this, you have found my story. leave me a review and i'll think of a prize.

* * *

**It Never Stays A Secret (When You Dance)**

**Chapter Five**

I don't know how I'm going to live through this. I dream of escaping back to the city where free love and art reign, where a person can be one thing their first day and something else entirely their next. We changed directions like the wind, but somehow we all wound up pointing the same way.

I can't wait to be back where we belong.

* * *

"Lucy, Jude, Maxwell, so kind of you to show up," Mr. Carrigan states in a tone that is sickeningly eloquent. The secret lovers take three of the four empty seats at the long dining room table. Sitting at the table are the two siblings' father and mother, a grandmother, and –

"Uncle Teddy," Lucy greets with fake cheer, "nice to see you again. I didn't realize you would be coming so early in the week."

"Oh, I just couldn't wait any longer; I wanted to see Maxwell, to congratulate him on a job well done." He flashes Max a smile with very white teeth.

"Thank you, Uncle Teddy," Max says carefully, reaching blindly under the table until he finds Jude's hand; Jude, catching on, takes the hand and holds on tight.

"So," says Uncle Teddy, rounding on Jude. "I remember you. What was that, two years ago? Three, maybe. Jude, is it? That short for anything?"

"Actually," Jude begins, but Max cuts across him: "Judith, Uncle Teddy." Though Jude keeps hold of his lover's hand so as to avoid a potential dramatic breakdown from the other man, he kicks him furiously under the table.

"Judith? Is that true?"

Max stomps on Jude's foot; "Yes, it is," the latter man says.

"Well, Judith, it sure is nice to see you again. I hear you have quite a relationship with our darling Lucy." Now he turns back toward her, and she forges another smile. "I'm happy for you. Judith seems like a lovely young man."

Before she, biting back a laugh, can reply, there comes the sound of rushing feet and Julia enters the scene, her hair in its customary two braids that fly out behind her. "Sorry I'm late," she murmurs shyly, smiling at her two siblings who she hasn't seen in so very long.

"About time," says the mother of the three. "Alright, everyone, you may begin eating." Most of those present reach for the nearest dish of food, but Max takes the time to greet his youngest sister. "Hey, Jules," he says, grinning at her as she slips into the seat between Jude and their grandmother. "You remember Jude, right?"

Jude gives Julia a polite smile.

"Why are you holding my brother's hand?" she inquires curiously, and a bit too loudly. Jude and Max freeze in identical expressions of horror, twin statues, their hands still clasped.

"This bread is delicious," the grandmother comments.

"Maxwell," his father says slowly, but Lucy cuts across him.

"Nothing wrong with a bit of brotherly affection," she insists. "They're going to be family pretty soon, anyway."

This is met with a moment of silence, then a yelp: "Lucy Carrigan! How could you keep something like that from us?"

"I just wanted it to be a surprise," she explains; her two lovers watch her in relief and admiration as she digs in the purse that she's hung on her chair and pulls out the ring that had been passed from Daniel to her, and then to Max, and then back onto her waiting finger. She slips it on. "Surprise!" she says with false cheer, holding her hand aloft.

The engagement party is nothing like the one at Sadie's. What happens is that while they finish their dinner Lucy's father sends Jude several very manly looks of congratulations, and her grandmother reaches past Julia to pat him on the arm and compare him to her late husband, who apparently had just the same accent; "I've always loved Australians," she informs him, obviously pleased.

"British, actually," Jude corrects her, and winces when her face falls.

"Should have known," she mutters to no one in particular. "A dignified Australian would never name her son 'Judith.'"

It seems an eternity before Julia, Lucy, mother and grandmother gather plates and silverware and bring them to the kitchen; the four men sit awkwardly in their seats, Max concentrating on a family photo that is framed in gold and hung on the wall directly across from him, Jude glancing around at the room's various decorations and accessories.

"And how about you, Maxwell?" inquires Uncle Teddy. "I'm sure Judith and Lucy aren't going to be the only happy couple. You must have found a nice girl by now."

Max, having been nearly hypnotized by the photograph, by his own younger, carefree face, snaps out of it only slowly. "Actually – " he begins eventually.

His father interrupts him with a harsh, unamused laugh. "I'm sure that my son has impregnated half of New York City, and is most likely by now starting on the suburbs."

Unable to deal with this at the moment, Max covers his face with his hands.

"I hope that wasn't an affirmation," his father states, clearly disapproving. "You know, I thought it would change you. Serving your country. Obeying orders, for once. But it hasn't affected you one goddamn bit, has it?"

There is a weighty silence; then, scooting back his chair, Max stands and stalks off, his footsteps echoing in the distance as he ascends the stairs. Jude wants more than anything to join him, to escape the heaviness of the air in the dining room, and the two older men who have now turned their attention onto him, but at that moment the females chose to reenter.

"Desert!" Lucy's mother announces, as Lucy herself gives Jude a questioning look, obviously referring to her brother's absence; he shakes his head to mean he'll explain later.

* * *

And he's off again. Your brother is about as predictable as a winning lottery number. But then again, it's good that he escaped on time. You and I were not so lucky.

* * *

Desert in the Carrigan household is a fearsome event that Jude has been glad to avoid up until this point in his life. He eyes the stack of china plates set on the table as though they might come to life and hurl themselves at him. While Lucy puts brownies on plates and passes them around and her mother pours coffee into teacups, the other two take their seats once more.

"Where's Max?" Julia questions.

"He's in the bathroom," Uncle Teddy answers smoothly. "I'm sure he'll return soon."

"Would you like sugar in your coffee, Judith?" Mrs. Carrigan questions.

"Oh, no thank you," he replies quietly.

"I like a man who drinks black coffee," Lucy's grandmother announces. "You've made a fine choice, Lucy."

Jude is relieved to return to the grandmother's good books. That makes one less opponent, if it comes to plate-chucking.

The grandmother is not finished speaking. "I remember that your father was born just six months after my wedding. It was quite the scandal, back then. I hope you'll not make such a mistake, Lucy."

"Oh, of course not," says Lucy blandly, looking mildly sick.

"So I suppose you scared your son off again?" Lucy's mother asks her father coldly, taking a bite of her brownie.

There is no reply for several seconds, and when it comes, the father's voice is tight, tense: "Maybe if you hadn't given birth to such an indolent ass – "

"_Don't you talk about my son like that," _the mother snaps, clearly livid. Her hand clenches into a fist on the table.

"How the hell else should I talk about him? You know, I thought this was going to be his big break. That he could go into the army and make something of himself. But no, he comes back just as resistant and vulgar as ever, living in that disgusting city, most likely whoring himself out to – "

The plate misses by centimeters, smashing against the blank wall behind his head and raining shards of porcelain onto his lap and the floor. There is a deathly silence.

"Not quite enough sugar in these brownies," the grandmother comments, her gaze concentrated on the table.

Uncle Teddy stands, menacingly, but Lucy has already pulled her younger sister to her feet, guiding her out the door, Jude following without hesitation.

They leave the shell-shocked Julia in her bedroom and close her door before starting toward Lucy's room. "Oh, shit," she says, as they come closer. "Max. I – do you want to, or should I – ?"

"Your turn tonight, I think, love," Jude says quietly. The dull roar of shouts echoes up the stairs toward their ears. "I'll just wait in your room, alright?"

She takes a deep breath. "Wish me luck."

He pecks a kiss on her lips, and they go their separate ways.

* * *

He's moodier than a girl during her time of the month. He's more frightened than a rabbit, and almost as horny. And I love him. You do, too.

* * *

Lucy knocks, but enters without waiting for an answer. "Mom threw a plate at dad," she says quietly. "I think he's alright. It, ah, missed. Shit, I was joking when I told Jude our family started chucking plates during desert, I never thought…" She trails off when she realizes that her brother is not listening, and braces herself. "What's up?"

"I heard you." He says it so quietly that she's not sure he has spoken at all.

"What?"

"I'm just some kind of fucking _job_ for you, aren't I?"

She stiffens. "No…"

"Well I suppose it's more like volunteer work. Would you like me to start paying you?"

"Stop speaking shit, Max. We just take turns cause we don't want to, you know, overwhelm you, or whatever. It's not a job at all." She pauses, then grins. "Although, you know, I could perform a certain job, if you wanted me to."

A grin curves upward, making his features shine. "Our _parents_ are downstairs," he protests weakly.

"Yeah, well, I'll lock the door."

"It doesn't have a lock, you know that."

They spend the next five minutes lugging the heavy bureau in from of the door, then both lunge for the bed at just the same moment; Lucy lands on top of Max. "Well," he says, "let's get this started, shall we?"

Meanwhile, Jude lies on her bed, face buried in her pillow, drinking in her scent, flowers and incense. He smiles into the fabric. That smell, her smell, belongs to him, now. He is all too happy to share her with Max. There is plenty of Lucy to go around.

It is past midnight, according to the clock, when the door creaks open. He looks up, expecting Lucy to tiptoe in and suggest that he stay the night. Instead, grey hair, rigid with hairspray, frames the restless face of her mother. "Jude!" she exclaims. "I thought you would be in Max's room."

"Just came in to talk to Lucy for a bit," he lies nervously. "Ah, she's in the bathroom."

"I believe an apology is in order," she says softly.

"Don't worry about… "

"My husband… he isn't ordinarily like that. And I, I shouldn't have… I must have had too much to drink…"

"It's fine," Jude assures her politely, already planning to pack up and convince his two lovers to leave as soon as their family is asleep.

"Good night, Judith," she says softly, and then is gone.

Closing the door with a snap behind her, the mother strides down the carpeted hallway, passing two doors and knocking on a third, and then opening it without permission. She inhales sharply, blinks furiously, waits a few minutes to make sure it's not a hallucination about to disappear, and then says, with all the courage she can muster: "Hey, kids."

* * *

I knew something like this would happen. It was as inevitable as rain in Liverpool. That doesn't make it any more pleasant.

* * *

It could have been worse. What happens is that Max is lying on his back as Lucy slowly zips his fly back up, and then climbs onto his exposed chest. She brushes a kiss on his lips. "How was I?"

"Fabulous," he declares, running his hands down the sides of her bare abdomen.

"I was so afraid that Mom or Dad would walk in on us," she confesses.

"Nothing to worry about," he assures her confidently. "We're barricaded in." He gestures toward the bureau that blockades the door.

She presses her cheek against his own. "Max…?"

"Yeah?"

"Does that door open in, or out?"

He shrugs, which is difficult while weighted down by her torso on his. "Never really paid much attention, why?"

"Well, if it opens in, we're all set. If it opens out, then, well, that bureau isn't going to do it much good."

"Mph." His vision is blocked by her blond tresses splayed across his face, and for a moment he is lost in the bliss of one of the two he loves most in the world lying on top of him, naked to the waist.

Then comes the inevitable: "Hey, kids," and his heart stops.

Lucy turns around, still on top of him. "Mom," she greets tightly. The woman, having opened the door – it opens out, after all – stares at them over the top of the dresser, something near panic in her eyes.

Despite all evidence to the contrary, Mrs. Carrigan is all business. "Lucy," she commands, methodical, "get your bra back on. Max, move the bureau. At once," she adds, when neither of her children moves.

They both set to work; their respective tasks are soon accomplished, but when they start for their shirts, their mother stops them. "Come with me," she says instead.

"Shirtless?" Max asks, and he's trying to be casual, like nothing's wrong, but his voice quivers.

She nods, and ushers them out the door, and down the stairs. They stop at Julia's room.

"No, please – " Lucy begins, arms crossed over her bare stomach; but her mother plays a game of callous ignorance, knocking on the door with remarkably steady knuckles.

"Yeah?" calls their younger sister.

"We're having a family meeting," their mother answers, almost cheerful. "Come on out, sweetie."

"Now?" inquires Julia, opening the door a crack to peer out. She gapes at the scene that greets her, her two half-clad siblings standing behind her businesslike, bathrobe-clad mother.

"Yes, now," her mother answers.

"What about Judey?" She copies the nickname her brother so often uses, and it makes him smile.

"Judith is never to hear a word of this, understood?" Her mother is so commanding that she nods without question.

They make their way down to the living room, where they find Uncle Teddy and their father clouding the air with cigar smoke; the two elder siblings are grateful for the smallest amount of covering. This is short-lived, however, when their mother grabs both cigars and brings them into the kitchen, dumping them into the sink. "Well," she says, pronouncing more syllables than belong in the word, "everyone sit down. I think you can all guess what this meeting is about."

"Hicks at a circus," Max quotes helpfully, but falls silent at her glare. She seats him on a stool near the fireplace, Julia on the floor in front of him, and Lucy in an armchair across the room.

"I'm just going to begin this meeting," the mother announces, "by saying that your father was right about you, Max."

He doesn't answer, appearing to find his own bare feet fascinating, wiggling his toes.

"Would you like me to repeat what he said?"

He shakes his head.

"I'm going to, anyway. _Indolent ass. Whore._" That certainly fits someone I know. Don't you agree, Julia?"

The young girl starts at hearing her name. "Mom, please don't drag me into this."

"I don't know what to do," her mother admits, and her alacrity seems to have given way to hopeless defeat. "I just don't know – I can't send you back to the city acting like that – "

"What Maxwell does in the city is his own business," Uncle Teddy states clearly. "It's what he does in this house that I care about. I'd like to know exactly what's transpired. Maxwell?"

Max takes a deep breath. "I… and then Lucy… and we… but then…" he stutters and stumbles over the words.

Lucy takes this as her cue to speak. "Max was upset," she begins. "Dad said some things, and, well, Max gets set off pretty easily these days. I mean, it's just a rough time for him, and I wanted to help."

"Rough time?" their father asks incredulously. "_Now_ is his rough time? Back in that perverse city of drunken parties and a different girl every night? He's having problems readjusting to so many illegal drugs, I'm sure."

"Look, Dad, it's not like that," Lucy begins.

"Luce, please," Max interrupts, pleading. "They don't have to know how fucked – "

"Language!" their mother exclaims.

"I was just trying to make him feel better," Lucy concludes, in a tone tinged with bitter anger.

"Oh, don't worry," her mother counters. "You've made us all feel so much better. Be proud, Luce. You know, _damn it_, I thought we'd put an end to all this."

"You did!" Lucy counters angrily. "It was just… I wasn't thinking. I just wanted to help him."

Her father scoffs. "There's nothing wrong with him. He doesn't need help."

"I don't think I can let you return to the city," her mother repeats. "I just… can't allow it. I…"

She freezes, catching sight of something in the doorway. "Judith," she greets nervously, "good to see you."

* * *

I don't understand how the two of you turned out so good. It's got to be some kind of miracle.

* * *

"I hope I'm not disturbing anything," Jude states quickly, civilly. "I, ah, heard Lucy speaking…"

"Oh, no worries," Mrs. Carrigan replies airily. "We were just having a little chat. You can go on back to bed, dear."

Jude does not budge. "Max, mate," he inquires, "you alright?" He cannot help but to stare at his lover, shirtless, leaning forward, awkwardly trying and failing to hide behind his youngest sister who sits in front of him. There are no fireworks to accompany a moment that he has been waiting for what seems like ever to observe. Jude catches sight of several ugly, brown scars that he has not previously seen; other than that, he can find no reason that the man has refused to let Jude view him in such a state. He cannot help but to drink it all in, every last detail, the visible ribs and muscles and pale skin.

"Yeah," Max says, feeling as though he is melting under the other's gaze. "Yeah, I'm just fine. See you in the morning?"

"Alright," Jude says cautiously, and then is gone, back up the stairs. Max watches him with the air of a soldier abandoned in battle.

"Maybe," says Julia quietly, getting back to the earlier conversation, "if Max just told us what was wrong… we could help him, in, ah, more…conventional… ways."

"Excellent," agrees her mother forcefully. "Max, would you like to…"

There is a silence; then, Max stands. "I'll tell you what's the problem," he says, very slowly and carefully. "It's all you fucking losers not leaving me the hell alone."

He runs. He dashes down the hallway before anyone can stop him, but the people in the portraits on the walls are speaking to him in a language he does not understand, and only the whites of their eyes are visible.

And now water is seeping down the steps in a thin waterfall, only they are not steps anymore, but covered in matted green undergrowth, and there is a tree growing out of the flat place where the landing should be, and someone is lying there and his heart stops when he realizes who it is.

Lucy's eyes are blank and staring, and there are burgundy-brown handprints splattered on her tattered clothing, but no sign of where her killer might have gone. "No," he gasps, and he might be crying, he is not sure, he does not know anything anymore.

Except that red footprints lead away from the tree, up the stairs, and he follows them, climbing the steps, crawling, hiding himself in the tall grass that grows to either side of him; he can feel it brush his legs, and he wonders how he could have been so stupid as to not put on a shirt. He emerges from the jungle of the staircase, but trips over something lying in the hallway, glances down to see what it is, and upon recognizing it bites his lip so hard as to draw blood because he cannot shout or they will find him.

"What's wrong, mate?" Jude's concerned voice comes from nearby.

But that doesn't make sense. Jude cannot be speaking to him; he's just stumbled over Jude's body. Jude is sprawled in the dirt, eyes wide and blank, a thin trail of dried crimson at the corner of his mouth, shirtless, with scars in just the same places as Max's –

No, Jude is standing over him, fully clothed, concern on his face. Max, on his hands and knees, turns back toward the stairs, but the dead Jude has vanished, along with the jungle. He staggers to his feet. "Hey, man," he says carefully, because clearly he is hallucinating that he is in his parents' house with Jude – which is preposterous, because he is in the jungle and he is never going to leave.

Jude puts an arm around him, one that feels surprisingly solid for not being real, and leads him to his bedroom, and he keeps trying to get back down to the ground because standing up straight is suicide, there's nothing to block them from the gunshots he can hear in the background. "Judey," he gasps, afraid, "look, I know you're not real, you have to stop doing this to me…"

They enter his bedroom, and the door is shut. The firing abruptly stops.

"Better now, mate?" Jude questions gently.

Max rubs at his eyes. "Man… what the fuck is happening?"

"We can worry about that in the morning," his lover assures him, tucking him into bed like a mother and smoothing the hair across his forehead.

"You're not real," Max gasps, "you're not _real_, damn it, you can't be here because I don't deserve you anymore, no matter how much I – "

"It's okay, mate, just get some sleep…" Jude tells the other man soothingly.

" – love you," Max concludes tiredly, for the first time, and Jude smiles.

* * *

All I want is for your brother to be alright. I just want to hold him in my arms and take all his evils away. You are more than welcome to join us. I'll do whatever it takes.

* * *

Jude does not want to sleep; he wants to lie, rolled up in blankets, and let his lover's words echo though his mind, again and again. Love you, love you, love you. What's more, he cannot doze because if Max wakes as messed up as he went to sleep, he should not be alone.

But slumber comes swiftly, despite all precautions, and soon he is striding though a dreamland. It seems to be an abandoned Liverpool alleyway, stone buildings to each side, pavement beneath his bare feet. A familiar figure stands at one end, dressed all in black, long hair cascading across her shoulders, a folded American flag in her hands. Jude breaks into a run; panting, because it is hotter, and more humid than any previous day in his hometown. His steps echo altogether too loudly, as there is no other sound.

Something is wrong; that much he can sense, in that his insides have turned to stone, and the sky is grey, and when he finally reaches Lucy she is perfectly still and her golden tresses are like a halo. He almost cannot bring himself to speak, to break the absolute silence, until he notices a tear following a perfect path down her cheek.

"It's Max," she says.

He looks behind her, and clearly they are not in Britain anymore because there are too many trees in the cemetery, the endless burial ground that stretches as far as his eye can see. Lucy leads him quietly down a dirt path that appears deserted until he catches sight of the woman, standing beside a statue of an angel. He looks to Lucy, who nods him back to the stranger. She is naked, pale, thin, with thick, black hair, but he concentrates only on her face.

"He murdered my grandmother," the stunning female states clearly. "She died praying."

Jude stands there, staring at her, but Lucy puts an arm around his shoulders and guides him onward; he glances back at the woman, but she is gone, and when he looks forward again she is seated against a tree, up ahead.

Lucy, fidgeting with the flag in her hands, stands a respectful distance behind him while the woman speaks to him, the sunlight glancing off her dark locks. Her voice is hollow, almost bitter. "He didn't kill my mother, not directly" she now says softly. "She ran from him, she fell. Booby trap. He didn't mean to scare her off."

Catching on by now, Jude nods to the woman and continues on up the path, which is dry so that he kicks up dust with every step. Lucy hurries to catch up with him, but once more stands back as the mysterious stranger addresses him, now from a seat atop a tombstone. "It was an accident," she says, "he didn't see me. He didn't want to kill me."

Up ahead, Jude can see the end of the path. He reaches for Lucy's hand and she places it in his own. They travel slowly, almost leisurely, to where the woman is seated in front of yet another grave. When she opens her mouth, Jude shakes his head. "I don't want to hear it," he says sharply; without a word, she stands and leaves, not walking, but drifting with a nonexistent wind. Jude kneels before the grave, and doesn't even need to read the engraved _Maxwell Carrigan _because it is obvious that this was where he was destined to wind up all along. It is beautiful, in its own way, with a rosebush blooming in front, over thick green grass. Taking a seat, he paws absentmindedly at the dirt in front of him. "Hey, mate," he says softly, in a tone reserved for the dead.

"Jude?" asks a sleepy voice that could belong to no one but Max.

Jude blinks several times. That can't be right. He turns to ask Lucy if she can hear him, too, because he thinks he might be going mad, but Lucy has disappeared.

"Judey? Come _on_, man, wake up."

Everything is going blurry; the grave is no longer visible, but Max's face is, right in Jude's, nose-to-nose. "Juuuuudey," he hisses, his tone urgent.

"Max?" Jude questions, awakening. It was all a dream. "You alright, mate?"

"No," Max says bluntly.

"Well, at least you seem to know where you are."

"Obviously. Judey, come on, get up, I need you."

"I'm up; I'm up, Jude grumbles, sitting. He has never seen Max look so serious, or so afraid.

"I, um, said some pretty crazy things to you, didn't I?" Max asks nervously.

"A little crazy, yeah," Jude replies mildly.

"I might have been, you know, seeing things. Just a little. Like, you know, Lucy and you… except you were dead."

Jude does not know what to say. Max had stopped hallucinating before Jude's return to New York; Lucy has only spoken of it in hushed tones, and her brother not at all.

"Jude? You _are_ awake, aren't you?" Max questions.

"What? Yeah, of course, mate."

"And it's ok, if I… talk."

"Talk?" Jude has a feeling they are not going to be chatting about hot girls or orgies. "Yeah, mate, if you want to talk… I'm here to listen."


	6. Forgiveness Comes

* * *

**Disclaimer: **not mine.

**Warnings: **slash, incest, polygamy, nudity, language

**Chapter Six Warnings:** semi-graphic violence, disturbing imagery

**Author's Notes:** alright, i finally had a guess on the song in the title, so i figure that it's about time i tell you the real answer. "take your clothes off when you dance" is a frank zappa song, chosen not because i am at all a zappa fan, but because the lyrics seemed to fit (_there will come a time when everybody who is lonely will be free to sing and dance and love / there will come a time when every evil that we know will be an evil that we can rise above..._), because the title worked for the premise of the story, and most importantly, because of the beatles song i'll be using in the last chapter - i bet you've already figured out which one.

**A/N 2: **it'll probably be a while before i update again, but i promise you, i will not give up on this story. i'm just working on some other things right now, which does not leave as much time to work on this as i would like. however, i have no intention whatsoever of abandoning this fic; i'm just going to be a bit slower from now on.

**Formatting:** this chapter is slightly different from others, because the entire chapter is one long conversation between max and jude, with flashbacks inserted. since technically it is all one scene, jude will not be speaking between every section, just once at the beginning. to distinguish flashbacks from the present, flashback dialogue is in italics, just as i've done in the rest of the story. i hope that clears things up.

**Thank-Yous:** to last chapter's fabulous reviewers. **kaaaleidoscope**, **Skylinebabe**, **TakeMeOrLeaveMe2010**, **mystifairy13**, **LucyxInxThexSky**, and **amatorius48**. you all rock. and anyone else who wants to see you name in my thank-yous, you know what you have to do!

* * *

**(Forgiveness Comes) When You Dance**

**Chapter Six**

I think I'd been waiting for this – for you to open up and bare your heart – from the moment I got off that ship and jumped into your arms. That doesn't mean I was prepared. I just have to keep telling myself that you are Max, you are _my Max_, you're the crazy bugger I fell in love with and knowing what haunts your nightmares only makes me want to hold you tighter.

* * *

Max widens his lips, then closes them again. He has to keep his eyes open, because if he shuts them god only knows what he will see. "I don't know what to say," he admits quietly. "Luce is always tryin' to get me to talk 'bout this shit, but, ah, I just couldn't…I haven't said a word to her…"

Jude takes a deep breath and Max can tell he is uneasy. "Just start at the beginning," he suggests tensely.

"Well…" He trails off. "Shit, ah…"

Jude looks him right in the eyes. "Go for it, mate."

* * *

"_Go for it, Carrigan."_ The commanding officer – Lieutenant Mustard – patted him firmly, mannishly on the shoulder; it was the first human contact he'd had in months. _"You're one of our best shots. I need you up front."_

* * *

"The beginning isn't, ah, important," Max mutters, and he's looking everywhere but Jude. "It was just this confusing blur, you know, orders and bombs and gunshots… that's not what I wanted to tell you about." Max is almost positive he won't be able to go through with this if he doesn't just spit it out now, but the words don't come easy. He splutters, searching for language, feeling like he's about to shit himself, because what he is about to tell his lover will surely end any kind of chance at a relationship they might have; and as much as he wants Jude for his own, Jude is not something he deserves, and Jude needs to know why.

"Just take your time, mate," his lover encourages. "I'm not going anywhere… we've got all night." Max glances at his clock, and can just barely make out the time, four a.m. That leaves hours before his mother will awaken them for another awkward day in the Carrigan household.

* * *

"_I'll need you up off your asses by six; we attack at seven. Civilians will be gone by then, see? It'll just be the bastards and the ones who support them. Got it?"_

Silence.

"_C'mon, boys, cheer up, this is just what you've been waiting for. Search and destroy. They've taken five of yours, these past months. Let's blow them to kingdom come, alright?"_

Cheers. Max joined in halfheartedly. It wasn't that he did not trust what the lieutenant – often known as 'Mean Mr. Mustard' – had said… well, actually, it was exactly that. And later, back in his tent, he was shuffling a deck of cards absentmindedly while talking with a couple of the other guys, when one mentioned that any orders they're given on the ides of March can't be good news.

"_Hey," _said another one,_ "you heard what the captain said. It's time for revenge. I mean, those sons of bitches have done us a goddamn load of damage, and we've not even got to face them head-on. This is our big chance. You gonna deal out those cards or what, Sergeant?"_

Max handed him the deck, and went to bed.

* * *

In the present, he curls into a ball, with a blanket thrown over his shoulders, and he's never been much of a storyteller but Jude is watching expectantly so he says: "It was earlier this year. March. Um, the sixteenth. I'd been there a shitload of time already, but I'd just been assigned these guys a few months before. We'd had a couple people killed, mines and such, nothing major… our first death, it was on Christmas… but they'd never had a proper battle, and it pisses you off, you know, when you're getting slaughtered and you haven't got a chance to fight back."

Jude does not say anything, but watches Max with a previously unseen intensity. Max expects a 'what happened next?' or 'get to the point, mate' but none comes, and that makes it all the more difficult to continue.

"We were sent to this village… orders were pretty vague."

* * *

He was not at all bleary with sleep; he had gotten used to the schedule; the slothful Max Carrigan was up and alert and ready, as ready as he would ever be, because no one could really _be_ ready, and nothing beyond a sinking feeling in his gut implied that that morning might be so different from any other. The helicopters let them off in a rice paddy and he was glad to have solid ground beneath his feet again; he had never been fond of flying. There was a path up to the front of them, and he tried to hold back, but Mustard's cry of, _"I _told_ you I wanted you up front, Sergeant Carrigan,"_ put an end to that plan. His fellows had already reached the path and were all crowded round, weapons at the ready. A throng of women, dressed in blacks and browns, several with babies in their arms, were striding away toward the village, clearly wanting nothing to do with the Americans. There was the sound of their worried voices in their native tongue, then harsh laughter. Max pushed his way to the front, weapon at ready.

A little girl let go of her mother's hand, stooped and lifted a rock from the ground. Despite the mother turning around and scolding her, the girl aimed and threw, and the stone glanced harmlessly off of Max's shoulder.

* * *

Still looking anywhere but Jude's eyes, Max sighs and says humorlessly: "I don't really know why it started. I mean, maybe we were only following orders, but I think we all just freaked, you know – we didn't know who was a threat and who wasn't, but we'd been told these people were the enemy… Man, I know I'm not making sense. Just, ah, bear with me."

Jude nods.

"Alright," says Max. "It was just a freak out thing, like I said. They gunned down this little girl, she can't have been older than seven…"

Jude shudders violently.

Max sympathizes. "C'mere, man," he says, holding out his arms, and his lover climbs up onto the bed beside him and snuggles against him, eyes wide and dry. He appears tense, as though he is the one about to bear the brunt of the attack.

"The others, well, there were a couple other women around, they rushed to help her. We opened fire on them."

* * *

"_Why you standin' round like a dumbfuck, huh, Sergeant? You know how to work that thing. You're damn good at it, Carrigan, now fire!"_ The voice might have been in his own head or shouted at him from some officer in the back, he wasn't too sure.

He did not aim his rifle, just shot randomly, and he could hear the gasping and moaning and screams and he shut his eyes and when the noise of the firing of so many different types of guns ceased, he opened them once more and stiffened at the sight before him.

Corpses tangled, lying in the dirt: sprawled, slumped, collapsed. There was very little blood; it looked as though they had merely tripped over one another and fallen onto the sandy road. Babies half-clad, curled up against their mothers. Bodies with hands flung across their faces as though to protect themselves. All smeared with dust. Clumps of dried grass as pillows, everyone packed together in a herd, and if anyone was alive they were doing a damn good job of hiding it.

Max thought he might be sick, and so he did the only rational thing he could think of, stepping over the dead and continuing on up the path and into the hamlet, weapon at the ready.

* * *

"We, um, entered the village." Max takes a deep breath and hugs Jude a little tighter to his chest, because he is worried that once his story is out he will never get another chance. Somewhere deep down he remembers that his chest is still bare, and it feels good to rub up against the warm fabric of his lover's shirt, to feel as though almost nothing is separating, to feel as though they are one, when the confession he is making threatens to tear them apart.

* * *

The dwellings were mismatched, some red brick but others squat and thatched, with dense foliage in the background, thick jungle that he had grown accustomed to; many inhabitants were outside in the open air. Max was the first soldier to arrive in the village, but the others rushed past him, swarming like angry bees, weapons at the ready.

A woman was cooking rice outside her hut; a grey-haired man with his arm wrapped around her shoulders let go of her to approach the Americans, several of whom run at him, one with bayonet in fixed position.

* * *

Now that he has begun talking, Max feels that he has no choice but to continue, and he begins to speak as quickly as he can, because he wants this over with fast, like pulling off a band-aid. "This man came towards us; one of the guys grabbed him, turned him around and bayoneted him in the back. It's supposed to be dishonorable, or some such shit, a wound in the back, like you were running away from the weapon. At least, that's what the drill sergeant told us in boot camp. In what's-it-called, our Civil War, soldiers would run away backwards so as to make sure they'd be shot in the front. But anyways, they got him in the back, and I think it was to shame him, but it's bloody stupid if you ask me – "

Jude chortles wildly, almost uncontrollably.

Max stares at him. "Are you _laughing_, you fucker?" For the first time, he meets Jude's eyes, and his own are angry and dangerous.

"No," Jude gasps, "it's not that… you said 'bloody stupid.'"

Max starts. "Did I really? I must be spending too much time with you… _mate_."

His lover embraces him, and there is a moment in which the past is so far away that they can no longer taste it. Then Max rubs at his eyes and mutters, "Oh, fuck, I've got to get this done, and I don't know if I can go fucking through with it."

Jude looks to him compassionately. "It's totally up to you, mate. I'm not going to make you say another word – "

Max interrupts him. "I'm just going to get this over with. There was this one guy they threw down a well…"

* * *

The body rattled against the walls of the well as it descended; the man was still alive, and screaming, voice hoarse, and quieter, quieter, as he tumbled down into the earth. Then a splash and the sound of paddling in water, clawing against stone, worse than fingernails on a chalkboard, and Max shivered but could not turn away; anger, horror blinded him and he turned to the private responsible: _"The fuck you think you're – "_

"_Shut it, Carrigan," _called the lieutenant from nearby. Max had choice words for the short, angry Lt. Mustard – _"Goddamn redneck midget"_, or something along those lines – but he stayed quiet because that is what he had been trained to do.

The private chucked a grenade into the well, and time stood still for one second, two –

The explosion rumbled through the earth and sent smoke to the surface, breaking Max out of his reverie. He looked around; chaos was everywhere.

* * *

"It was a confused mess, you know, people screaming, running. There were these women, older women, they all rushed to this place, I think it was a temple – it was sort if pretty – they all knelt and I think they were praying.

"Then this corporal, something Jones I think his name was, he came up behind them and shot them, one by one. Back of the head. Neat, clean, you know? They just keeled over, one by one, looked like they were bowing to the temple, except for the blood…"

Jude appears shell-shocked, shivering slightly but otherwise not moving. He stares blankly at the wall. Max feels guilty for doing this to his lover. There are some things no one should have to hear. "D'you want me to stop, man?" he asks cautiously.

Jude's words are rigid, stiff. "Only if you want to."

So Max continues.

"We rounded up everyone who was outside. This private, I think his name was Shears, he grabbed a baby out of this woman's arms, and she chased him, screaming, kicking but another soldier grabbed her from behind. I don't know what he did to her. I don't think I want to know, for that matter. The baby, well…" He can't say it, but he doesn't need to.

* * *

Shears set the baby on the ground in front of a thatched hut. A few other soldiers had gathered around him. He backed up and shot.

Max, hearing the shot, joined the watching crowd. He gasped in relief. The shot had missed. The baby, though screaming, was unharmed. The crowd of soldiers were laughing and cheering, and it made him feel sick

"_Alright, boys, that's enough," _Max announced sharply. _"Leave it alone, now."_

"_Aw, Sergeant, you're no fun,"_ Shears complained. Ignoring Max's orders, he aimed again, but Max tackled him to the ground and the shot missed once more. Max punched the other man in the gut, and then straightened up to the sound of another gun blast. Another had taken a shot at the squirming, screeching infant, whose squealing has ended abruptly. This time, the aim was perfect.

"_Are you deaf?" _Max demanded. _"I told you to cut it out."_

His statement is met by the laughter and scattering of the throng. Shears, having stumbled to his feet, faces Max and regards him harshly. _"I don' know what the hell you're playin' at, Sir," _he said bluntly, in a way he would never have dared speak to Max if anyone else were around. _"I'm just following orders. You ought to do the same."_

* * *

"It sort of started out small, and then mushroomed, you know. Like, at first they – we – would take our time, but after a while we were just gunning down everything that moved. I tried to stay out of it, but god damn it, everyone kept shouting at me, why the fuck didn't I join in, and I just didn't know what to do. I mean, I don't think anyone can prepare for a situation like that."

Jude says nothing.

"All the people who we'd rounded up in the plaza, they seemed terrified, they were all shouting, _'No Viet Cong!'_ which was probably the only English they knew. I certainly believed them, but you know, most of the other guys, they were just so _angry_.

"They were angry and getting drafted and taken away from their families. They were angry that a few of their number had been killed or injured or whatever. They were angry that they were stuck living in such shitty conditions, for a cause almost none of us believed in anyways. I mean, I guess some of them just bought the bullshit we were being fed. I don't know. It doesn't matter why it happened. The point is that it did.

"They – we – didn't spare anyone. The ones who held their hands up in surrender were mowed down, the ones who hid in their homes were found. So many tried to run, but they didn't make it. I remember seeing… this woman on the ground, her hat was lying on top of her and I could see her guts spilling out from underneath. And this guy, they'd carved some word into his chest with a bayonet, I couldn't read it, there was too much blood. And…"

Now Max is really edgy; he quakes violently, not holding Jude any longer but burying his head in his pillow so that his words are muffled. "Not all of them were killed straightaway." That one does not need explanation.

* * *

Max rounded a corner, choking with the smoke of a burning building, and saw her.

She could not have been older than fifteen; her clothing was torn, revealing her bare chest. Three soldiers were crowded around her, two with hands on her exposed breasts, and a third just behind them, trying to push past them and arguing with the first two: _"You've had more than your share, give me a go at her."_

She writhed and struggled, whimpering, her back up against one of the few still-standing structures in the village, as one of the men's hands began to creep lower and lower.

Max was not the hero of the situation.

* * *

"A couple of them were feeling up this girl, she was like half their age and I didn't – I didn't do anything to stop them. I was just so freaked out, you know, I couldn't think, I didn't know what to do. I mean, I couldn't just kill my guys, but nothing short of that was going to stop them. It was just so fuck up, it was just…" His tone is dampened by the pillow into which he speaks.

Jude appears lost as to what to do or say, and compromises by remaining silent and taking no action at all.

* * *

Max turned, and left, just in time to run into another private, emerging triumphantly from a nearby hut.

"_You gotten yourself a girl yet, Sir?"_

Max wanted to beat the shit out of the man, but refrained. _"I'm not much into that kind of thing."_

The private smirked. _"It was awesome. My girl back home never let me do anything like that when _she_ was knocked up. You're missin' out on a lot o' fun. Hell, you've been in this shithole longer 'n I have, I don't know how you stand it."_

Max did not say that he had morals or that he respected women or anything noble of that sort; he asked, _"You leave her alive?"_ and when the private scoffed and laughed, raucously, he hurried off into the house from which he had seen the man emerge.

She lay on her side, at such an angle that her swollen stomach was plainly visible; there was a bullet wound at the base of her neck, and another in her chest, and thick tendrils of blood crisscrossed over her breasts and left small puddles on the ground. She said something in her native tongue that he did not recognize but her tone was thin, weak, pleading and he could not stand it so he did the only logical thing and put a bullet through her head before dashing out again. His exit was just in time, as it turned out, because someone hurled a grenade inside only seconds after his departure.

* * *

Max's hands are clenched into fists; he struggles to sit up again. "Lots of them went for the girls. One of my guys, he – this girl, this pregnant girl – he, um, you know. And then he shot her. I tried to save her, but she was already dying, there was nothing I could do. I – I killed her, and got out. They blew up her house; it was one of the last ones standing. The whole place was a ruin.

"And… Rose… when I found out… that she was… I just… it reminded me…"

Jude nods.

"I went back out into the fighting, killed this old guy. I don't know why I did it. I guess everyone else was doing shit like that, it just… made sense. I know it's fucking sick. But then I was given orders to get everyone who was left standing, bring them out of the village to this irrigation ditch, and I thought it was over, I really did…"

* * *

This one, at least, was male, could have been a soldier fifty years before, and so less of a difficult kill, just aim and shoot and he fell to the ground. Upon further inspection it became clear that he was unarmed – big surprise – but it was too late for thoughts like that because the woman who ran to him and threw her arms around him was crying, tears flowing more quickly than his blood – and then Max was crying, weeping and shooting her down as well and then he fell to his knees and did not get up. He wasn't there long.

A foot kicked him and a voice came from behind – Lieutenant Mustard's voice, harsh and mocking. _"Who the fuck do you think you are? Too good to follow orders, Sergeant? Now give me that goddamn rifle, 'cause if you're not going to use it I sure as hell will."_

"_I'm sorry, Sir," _Max apologized bitterly, holding his weapon tight to his chest, fearful of how his commanding officer might use it.

"_I don't need your goddamn apologies, Carrigan. Just gather the rest of the civilians, get them away from this mess, in that ditch behind the houses."_

"I was so goddamned thankful. I thought he'd really changed his mind. I mean, I really believed I was saving them. As usual, I was a dumbfuck."

When Max does not continue with his story, Jude strokes his hair and says, softly, "But you're _my_ dumbfuck, alright? You're stuck with me, mate. Nothing's gonna change that."

"Hold your judgment a couple more minutes, man," Max assures him cynically, "you'll be eating your words, I promise."

* * *

Relieved at being a rescuer, now, not an enemy, he scurried to obey, taking all the remaining inhabitants he could find – too few, too few – and rounded them up, pointing them toward the irrigation ditch at the back of the village. He did not try to get them _inside_ the ditch – his orders couldn't have meant that, he must have heard wrong – he let them all stand by the edge. _"It's alright," _he found himself reassuring a young woman who most likely could not understand a word of his language.Her clothing was torn and thin tendrils of blood streamed down between her legs. _"It's gonna be okay."_ He guided her toward the ditch with the others. A child was crying, and Max found that his own eyes were still wet. He prayed for someone to come and stop this madness.

They all stood on the rim of the ditch, unsure, and Max was not so sure himself, he only knew that he was getting them away from the violence and he was only one man and there was nothing more he could do. There had to have been eighty of them, at most, all lingering on the edge, watching him with frightened eyes. He met one young boy's gaze; the kid stuck his tongue out defiantly and for the first time all day Max thought of Lucy. Lucy, a decade ago, eight years old to his eleven, who kicked his legs and stuck out her little pink tongue. Lucy, last year, lying beside Jude, with just the slightest space between them, into which Max longed to climb but had not the nerve. Jude, walking alongside them at that protest, as Prudence slid down off his shoulders, catching his eye and grinning to say that somehow everything was going to be alright.

As usual, Mean Mr. Mustard was there to break him from his reverie. _"Carrigan! The fuck you think you're doing? I want them _in_ the ditch. Go on, push 'em in."_

Max stood back, eyes wide, shaking his head. This could not be happening.

The lieutenant rounded on a couple nearby soldiers. _"Shears, Jones, Carrigan is too high and mighty to get the job done, so I leave it up to you boys."_

The two obeyed; the screaming started up again, mingling with the crackling fire as nearby dwellings went up in flames, thatched roofs became torches, smoke billowed. Another soldier came by to help, heaving living beings into the drainage ditch like dead things, prying children from parents and slinging them in first, leaving them to crawl like rodents in the base of the trench. Shouts and shrieks poisoned the air.

* * *

"They chucked them all inside. I didn't help, but, well, I didn't stop them, I mean, there was nothing I could do. That was the fucking worst part of it all, that I couldn't help, that just wasn't the way it worked over there, you don't understand… please, Judey, I'm sorry, you've got to forgive me, Judey, you've got to…" he keeps talking incessantly, desperately, shaking with silent sobs and Jude brushes a tear from his lover's cheek.

Jude says, more severely than he intends: "What happened then?"

Max opens and closes his mouth several times, a fish out of water. He blinks, takes a deep breath, and says: "The Lieutenant – Mustard, his name was – this pathetic little man, a hick, five foot four. He started shooting into the ditch."

* * *

Helicopters landed, not far off. New soldiers came running onto the scene. _"Thank God, thank god,"_ one said, catching sight of the last of the living, breathing villagers, all huddled together in their hole in the ground. He turned to Lt. Mustard. _"Come on, what are you waiting for?" _the newcomer said. _"Get them to safety."_

"_Don't worry," _said Mustard, _"I'll get them out of their misery."_

The man clearly took this for some bizarre joke, because he nodded and hurried off again. Mustard rounded on Max: _"You heard what he said, Sergeant. Open fire."_

Max gaped at him. _"That's not what he – "_

Before he could finish speaking, Max's rifle was pried from his hands; Mustard began to shoot at the crowded civilians.

It looked like hell, in a way. So many people, trapped beneath the surface, light trickling down into the open gutter; screaming, crying, falling to the earth with holes in skulls and chests and stomachs. Red blood like bright fire, everywhere. And all with his weapon.

A small child, maybe two years, scampered away from a dead mother's body, climbing out of the ditch, climbing with chubby little hands and feet up to the row of soldiers at the top. Mustard grabbed it, tossed him back inside, where it landed, headfirst, and lay limp as a ragdoll. The lieutenant shot it easily, without hesitation.

This time, when Max sunk to the ground, head in hands, tears slipping though his fingers, no one tried to get him back up.

* * *

"This kid almost escaped, and the bastard threw him back and shot him. I don't really know what happened after that, some helicopters came to see what the fuck was coming on, I think they saved a couple of survivors. I don't know. I was a total wreck. I had to stay with all those goddamn guys – knowing what they'd done – knowing I was no better than them – I was just a zombie, for a while, or a robot, mechanical, I just shut down and stopped feeling or I wouldn't have been able to get on with life. You know, I don't think I felt a goddamn thing until that morning you kissed me."

Neither Max nor Jude speaks for several long moments. Jude nuzzles into Max's shoulder with the top of his head, rubs circles onto his lover's back with gentle fingers.

When Max opens his mouth to speak again, Jude expects another horror story, and doesn't think he can take it. But all the American says is: "Maybe you should spend the rest of the night with Lucy."

Jude bites his lip. "You don't want me here?"

"You don't want to be here with me, man."

Of course Jude had expected something like this; he's not sure how to prove to his lover that he's going to love him until the end of the world and nothing can stop him, so he just says, "Actually, mate, I do."


	7. Life Goes On

**Disclaimer: **still don't own it.

**A/N: **look at this! a chapter! see, i _told_ you i wasn't going to abandon this. sorry for the long wait, and the shortness of it (usually i go for at least ten pages, but this one is only eight).

**A/N 2: **since i last posted i've gotten a new livejournal - to keep people updated on where i am in my stories, to post various writings that aren't worthy of this site, and to share with you what's going on in the lives of my muses. i'd love if you'd stop by and say hello. :)

(yourlovingfeta dot livejournal dot com)

**Thank-yous:** to last chapter's reviewers. LucyxInxThexSky, amatorius48, deadlyxTRENDS, rayychel infinity., and TakeMeOrLeaveMe2010 - i love you all. to those of you who have recently added my story to your favs or story alert without reviewing - you're also pretty awesome, and i'd love to have a review from any of you, if you're up to it.

* * *

**When You Dance (Life Goes On)**

**Chapter Seven**

Waking up in the morning was like entering a new world, one where your brother wasn't much of a mystery anymore, just a broken down lover who I would fix in any way possible. The two of us fit together differently; more tightly, with no space between us. Of course, you complicate things. You always do. It's part of why I love you.

* * *

Lucy catches her two lovers on their way down the stairs; it is Tuesday morning and they would never have gotten up so early if not for the persistence of Mrs. Carrigan. Neither of the boys has slept very well after their talk in the middle of the night, but both have managed to avoid having nightmares, for the time being. "You have an okay night?" Lucy inquires.

"Not too bad," Max answers evasively, sharing a look with Jude that his sister does not miss.

"Just thought I'd warn you," Lucy continues, "Mom and Dad aren't going to forget last night in a hurry. I think it's safest if we make a quick exit."

"Now?" asks Jude. He is all too happy with such a proposition.

"Well," she says uncomfortably, "there was one thing I wanted to do before we left. Ah… there's just an old friend I wanted to visit. You two can entertain yourselves for a couple hours, right?"

Max looks apprehensive but Jude assures her that it won't be a problem. They descend the steps, all three together, and enter the kitchen with apprehension written clearly across all of their faces.

"Judith!" Mrs. Carrigan greets warmly. "Good morning, good morning!" She smiles sincerely at him. "To you two, as well," she adds to her own children, a bit more coldly. "What a day. You have any plans?" When no one answers, she grins all the more brightly. "Splendid," she announces. "Maxwell, I was hoping you would do me a favor. You remember the Rigbys, who live next door?"

He does not answer.

"Well, I told them that you would go on a quick date with their daughter, Eleanor. You're supposed to pick her up in ten minutes. And Lucy – "

"I already have plans, Mom," Lucy cuts in quickly. "I was hoping you would drive me somewhere, actually."

"No problem, dear," her mother assures her without missing a beat.

"Ah, Mom?" Max questions uncertainly.

"Yes, Maxwell?"

"I already have a girlfriend."

"Oh, that's not an issue," his mother tells him. "You had no problem cheating on her last night, you should be able to do so again this morning." A second or two later she puts a hand over her mouth in horror. "Jude, dear…" she begins unsurely.

He pretends to start in surprise. "Did you say something?" he inquires.

Seeming immensely relieved, the woman smiles at him. "No, no, not at all. Lucy, you said you wanted me to drive you somewhere?"

"Yeah, Mom, if you don't mind…"

"Why don't you all have some breakfast?" Mrs. Carrigan suggests, leading them over to the kitchen table and piling various boxes of cereal in front of them.

After a quick survey, Max appears distraught. "No Captain Crunch?" he questions in horror.

"Whatever will you do, Max?" Lucy teases, then adds, "It's probably for the best, anyways. I think the cardboard box is actually healthier than the cereal."

"I think I'll go pick that girl up," he says, sounding moody and just a bit annoyed. "See you later, alright?" He strides away without a word, and half a minute later they hear the front door slam.

Lucy waits until her mother has left the room to speak. "Did something happen last night?" she queries. "I thought I heard crying. But you know, it could have been Mom sobbing over her nasty incestuous children."

"No," Jude says carefully, "Max and I – we had a talk last night. Well, you know, he talked. I listened."

"He _T_alked?" Lucy inquires, clearly surprised. Jude can hear the capital letter.

"Yeah."

Lucy gets a faraway look in her eyes. "I always hoped it would be me."

Jude shrugs. "I'm sure he's got plenty left to say."

* * *

I think I'm the only one of us who doesn't have secrets. You've both got hidden sides that you rarely let me see.

I'm just Jude.

* * *

The car ride is silent; as soon as Lucy announces their destination, Mrs. Carrigan knows better than to speak. As always, however, she an idea that she can't keep to herself. She pulls off to the side of one road and parks the car. Lucy looks out the window to observe a tangled mass of wildflowers and thorn bushes. "I thought it might be nice for you to bring him something," her mother suggests.

Lucy nods and leaves the car. She stoops in front of the flora and begins to gather blossoms, one by one, messily breaking the stems so that each is a different length. It's untidy, disorganized, and she wishes it could be perfect, but life rarely is. She curses at herself for forgetting to wear black. Reaching for another bloom, she scrapes her knuckles against a thorn, and lifts it to her mouth, tasting the coppery blood. The flowers she has dropped to the grass, and it is a moment before she takes her hand away from her lips to gather them up again.

She enters the vehicle once more, wordlessly, and Mrs. Carrigan starts the engine. In the five more minutes until they reach the cemetery, neither of them speaks.

When her mother parks outside the gates and makes to get out of the car, her daughter says softly: "Do you mind if I… do this alone?"

Her mother gives her a reassuring look. "That's fine, dear."

It takes her nearly ten minutes to find the grave; and when she reaches it, she kicks awkwardly at the grass in front of it before sitting herself down. She is silent for a few seconds, unsure of what to say; then settles with, "Hey."

She half expects him to answer, and so is mildly surprised when her greeting is met with silence. She bites her lip, fidgets, sighs. "I've still got your ring," she says at last, softly. "I mean, now it's supposed to represent this thing I've got going on with Max and Jude. But when I wear it… I think of you, too.

"Max and Jude… well, I'm assuming you can see us. And, you know, you were always old-fashioned, you probably don't approve. But I had to move on, you know? And they were there. And they love me. And I… I love them, too."

She sets the makeshift bouquet down in front of his headstone. She does not know what else to say. "Just because I don't support the war… doesn't mean… that I'm not proud… you did something brave." She drifts back into a restless silence. At last she murmurs, "I'm not going to forget you," and strokes the gravestone like she would a lover's cheek.

It must be at least an hour of stillness and quiet before she makes her way back to the car.

* * *

Your brother is the heart of us. We exist to complete him.

* * *

Max rings the doorbell with a martial briskness, no trace of uncertainty. The girl who appears in the doorway is older than he remembers her; her dark hair is twice as long as when they last met, and her neckline pleasantly low. "Eleanor?" he asks uncertainly.

"Yeah…" She blushes. "I'm really sorry about all this. Our moms set it up. It was not my idea."

"Don't worry." He puts an arm around her and guides her off the porch. "It's no problem at all… what did you have in mind for this date of ours?"

Eleanor shrugs. "Up to you."

Max grins. "Well, I have my dad's car and a wad of cash… so the sky's pretty much the limit. I hardly even remember what one _does_ for enjoyment 'round here."

"Well," she says slowly, "the bowling alley's being renovated, or some such shit… what that leaves is: coffee from that place in the center of town, or we could egg or graffiti the school…"

Max grins as he opens the passenger door of the car, ushering her inside. He sits himself in the driver's seat. "How about both?" he suggests.

They reach the town center within moments, park the car, and get inside the coffee shop before Max realizes he has left all the money in the car. It ends up not being a problem, because he knows the woman behind the counter from sometime in another life, and he and Eleanor sit down to talk at a table in one corner with their free lattes in hand.

"So you live in New York?" Eleanor confirms.

He nods. "Best fucking city in the world… not that I travel much."

"I've been considering running away to there," she admits. "I should have started college this year, but I didn't get in anywhere I applied… I could have set my standards lower, you know, community college, but it's such a big fucking embarrassment, my parents can hardly stand the shame. I'd do better without them."

"A sound policy," he agrees mildly, sipping his drink. "You know, my old landlady has some couch-space… I'd totally vouch for you if you wanted to take it."

"Really?" She is grinning with a delight he has not seen since his engagement party.

"Of course… and I'd just be a street away. Lucy and Jude have got their own place, and I'll be moving in with them after the wedding."

"Jude?"

"The coolest limey since Shakespeare… he's my best friend. Well, more now."

"And Lucy? Your sister Lucy, you mean?"

"That's the one."

"So which one is it that you're marrying… that guy, or your sister?" She says it jokingly, like she's sure she's misunderstood him.

"Both," he announces proudly.

She opens her mouth, and then closes it again. "You're serious?"

"'Course."

"I get the feeling your parents don't know about this?"

He laughs outright at this. "They've actually caught Lucy and me a couple times… that was pretty uncomfortable. But I'll tell you what; I'm bringing Lucy and Jude on a quick road trip, and then we'll pick you up on our way back to the city. You can come to the wedding yourself. Sound like a plan?"

"Of course."

* * *

What's that you said? Before any of this threesome business. You said that if ever we got married, it was going to be as far away from your relatives as we could get. Well, I had only met them once, then, and I thought it was a pretty good idea. That sentiment has now been increased rather drastically.

* * *

Jude has climbed out Lucy's bathroom window and scurried like a mouse up onto the roof, whose slope is gradual enough in the back that he can sit there with a sketchbook on his lap, pencil in hand, and stare around at the quaint neighborhood, to which he thinks he will never become accustomed. There are so many trees here – so many trees – he could never get used to it. He begins to scrawl away at the paper, something that resembles a cross between Lucy and a tree; uprooted, floating in the sky, amidst stars like diamonds –

"Judith! What in God's name do you think you are doing?" It is Uncle Teddy. Having heard stories of the man but never been alone with him before, Jude feels a rush of gratitude for his lofty position.

Unsure of what name he is supposed to call the man by, he keeps his answer vague and simple: "Drawing."

"Drawing? Art, you mean."

"Yes."

"I didn't know you were an artist…" An awkward pause. "Well, out with it. What are you drawing?"

That is an easy enough question. "Lucy." Her name seems to glow.

Uncle Teddy's interest appears to have been sparked. "Oh, really!" he exclaims. I don't suppose you'd think of selling it? Lucy's aunt and I have a collection of family portraits, and this would make a splendid addition: Lucy Carrigan, by her then fiancé Mr. Judith – what did you say your last name was?"

"Feeny, but – "

Uncle Teddy is not listening; he has already moved on: "We'll frame it in silver and hang it just below the grand staircase that leads to the mezzanine where my grandfather used to take his tea in the afternoon. It will require just a touch of blue to set off the silver frame and the gold in Lucy's hair…"

"Well, there'll be a bit a blue in it, 'cause we'll have ta' see the sky…" Jude mumbles, but still his fiancés' charming uncle pays him no heed, seeming altogether distracted by the thought of a new family heirloom. Jude scrawls a bit more on the paper, adding emphasis to Lucy's hair. He had planned to fit Max into it, but this no longer seems an option, and making enemies of his lovers' family is not an intention of his.

"Come on down, then," Uncle Teddy calls, heedless of Jude's discomfort. "Maybe I can offer a few suggestions; they always did say I was the artist of the family."

Seeing that he really has no other option, Jude carefully slides over the edge and climbs down to the window from which he had come; then, spotting latticework on the side of the house, uses this as hand- and footholds to scramble down to the ground, landing on his back.

Uncle Teddy watches this uncomfortable journey with eager eyes. He holds out a hand; Jude scrambles to his feet and presents his masterpiece.

There is utter silence for a moment, during which Uncle Teddy's eyes grow to twice their size and Jude realizes belatedly that the tree-Lucy in the picture is naked.

"What in God's name… we can't – we can't have this framed in silver and hanging beneath the master staircase! What the hell _is_ it?"

Caught between artistic indignation and a desire to stay on the man's good side, Jude mutters, "It's, ah, Lucy… in the sky."

"I can see that. With… diamonds, apparently."

"Yeah, with diamonds." Jude hopes very much that the other man has caught on, but no such luck.

"Well this won't do – you'll have to change everything – get Lucy to sit for you in the parlor, where the sunlight comes in… let her _wear_ some diamonds or something, for Christ's sake, you can't have them flying about like that, it'd give anyone a headache." There is another silence, in which Uncle Teddy seems desperately to try to process the image before him. "Reminds me of that 'modern art' shit you see in museums nowadays… maybe it was symbolic or something… you are the tree and Lucy is clinging to you for support, much as woman has cleaved to man throughout the ages?"

The obvious move would be to say "yes," and leave it at that. Jude, however, has always been protective of his art, and he cannot bear to let it rest. "Alright, picture yourself in a boat on a river…" he begins tentatively.

Uncle Teddy does not appear to hear him. He is still examining the picture and musing aloud to himself: "Yes, now I'm beginning to get it… the sinewy branches… the strength…."

"There are tangerine trees and marmalade skies," Jude continues, very slowly, as though speaking to a child.

"Of course!" the older man exclaims, not hearing the Brit at all. "A _family_ tree… and the diamonds are its offspring…"

"And there's a girl, a girl with kaleidoscope eyes," Jude says intently, trying to get his message across.

A very smug Uncle Teddy has not heard a word of this. "You are drawing your future with my niece, and your place in her family," he announces proudly. "I understand _exactly_. Fabulous work, Judith, a true masterpiece. Name your price."

* * *

Your family are all cracked. Seriously.

* * *

They are armed with eggs – these being significantly cheaper than spray-paint – and have left the car parked nearby. The school looks a lot smaller than Max remembers it. He supposes that this is because he has seen far greater things since he has last been here. Class is in session, which makes their mission all the more dangerous.

"Suppose we should go for the unused classrooms, then," Eleanor comments.

Max makes a face. "Aw, c'mon, I thought you were a badass." Sometime between this pastime being suggested and the actual drive here, he has realized that school represents establishment and that establishment has screwed him over rather badly.

"Maybe if we came back at night…" Eleanor suggests halfheartedly.

"I'm not going to force you or anything," he says, and finds to his delight that after loading Jude with his story, or at least a part of it, he no longer feels the need to equate his every action with some aspect of the jungle, "but I feel the need for some entertainment, and petty revenge. And it would be really cool if you would help me."

In the end, they are quite cowardly; they toss one egg at the wall of the gym, leave the rest lying in the parking lot, and drive off. Max laughs. "I thought I'd had enough adrenaline for a lifetime," he affirms, "but man, that felt good."

His date seems just as pleased, until they reach her house. "I'll see you soon?" she questions.

"Promise." He smirks at her and departs.

He finds Lucy wandering through their yard looking rather dejected; nearby, Jude appears to be making some kind of business transaction with his uncle. As the older man is walking away, Jude approaches Max, waving a wad of cash and looking quite pleased with himself. After glancing around to make sure that Uncle Teddy is quite gone, and no other unsavory family members are approaching, he pecks an excited kiss on Max's lips and grins triumphantly. "How was your date?" he inquires teasingly.

"Fabulous." Max glances at the money again. "Whoring yourself out to my uncle?"

Jude slaps him, lightly. "Sold him a drawing. Of course, now I'm going to have to redo it, but I've never seen so much money in my life." He glances over his lover's shoulder. "What's up with Lucy?"

"Dunno."

They approach her uncertainly; she appears to have been crying, but smiles warmly at them. "You ready to go?"

"Sure," says Jude.

Max perks up. "I was thinking we could take a quick roadtrip before we head back to the city."

"Yeah?"

"You know, since we don't appear to have a hell of a lot of parental support here, I thought we might check another source."

"That'd be a bit difficult to do without a boat, mate," Jude says, looking at his lover as though he's gone mad.

"Are all Brits such dumbasses? Princeton is less than an hour away. And I'd like to see some old friends, anyhow. We've just got to steal Dad's car, and we're all set."

That is exactly what they do. They gather up belongings in record time and pile them into the trunk. Lucy takes the backseat, Jude takes the front, and Max, fortunately not having returned the key to his father, is the driver.

As they pull off they hear Mrs. Carrigan calling, "Where are you going… darlings…" but they have sped down the street and out of earshot within seconds. Max being used to New York taxi driving, he finds no need to heed the speed limit; the resulting ride makes Jude slightly nervous, but this he keeps to himself.

Max begins to sing, first under his breath, then louder, some song about cars and driving that both Jude and Lucy find too ridiculous to join in:

"Baby you can drive my car,

Yes I'm going to be a star…"

Jude takes out a charcoal pencil and begins to scribble on the window, complaining each time they go over a bump. On the glass appears the hazy ghost of the picture now in Uncle Teddy's proud possession. Jude could happily never come into contact with his lovers' family ever again, but he is glad to have made his mark.

They round another corner, and leave the oppressive town behind. Between Max's song and Jude's exclamations of exasperation each time his makeshift work of art is damaged, there is no room for awkwardness or silence. Lucy snakes an arm over the back of Jude's seat and underneath his shirt, followed by her lips against his chin, making their way up toward his mouth.

Max looks over and complains that they are having fun without him. Jude tells him to keep his eyes on the road, and kisses Lucy back.


End file.
